Painting Peace
by BixieRosen
Summary: Two neighbouring moons are locked in a century long interplanetary war. When the possibility of peace is given, Bella has no option but to leave behind all she knows and move to a hostile planet to marry the crown-prince, giving her life away for her people. But will her sacrifice pay off? AH/OOC, eventually B/E, voted in the Top 10 Completed Fics February 2019 at TwiFanfictionRecs
1. Chapter 1

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

This is my first foray into fanfiction after not writing for nearly a decade, so I'm seeing this as a practice ground. The story is fully written, eighteen short chapters in total, making up just over 30,000 words. I'll be posting in quick succession, only allowing for editing.

 **Painting Peace**

 _by BixieRosen_

1

"There are precious few days that are truly deserving of the word 'monumental'."

Bella listens to the speech she knows by heart, having helped written it, as if she is hearing it for the first time.

"Today, we are taking the first steps toward a future in which our children can look up at the sky and see nothing but freedom. See nothing but opportunity."

Lifting her gaze upward, she watches the azure heavens, her lips moving silently to the words being spoken.

"Today, we take the first steps toward peace."

 _Peace_. She mouths the word a second time in the silence. The word feels heavy on her lips, as if forming the word is somehow unnatural. Forbidden. _Taboo_. And yet, isn't it the greatest wish she has ever had? When the drone strikes killed her mother when she was four, she vividly remembers screaming at her father, wailing; _it's not fair!_ She'd had a playmate, an orphan from the neighbouring moon, and after the death of the Queen, Bella had slowly watched how those supposedly there to care for him ostracised him. Peter, his name had been. Four months after her mother's death, Peter disappeared.

Many years later, she found out her own people had killed Peter. To send a message. A message that went unheard as the neighbouring moon would care little about the child of a traitor. He belonged nowhere. Not on his home planet, not on the planet that reluctantly took him in. To this day it made her want to heave, bile rising unbidden every time Peter's small face surfaced in her mind.

Edging her mind away from bitter memories, Bella closes her eyes, memorising the warmth of the sun on her cheek, feeling the weight of her clasped hands in her lap. She feels alone, as if they are back in her father's study with no one else to hear his words.

"The past year has been uncertain as we worked to form a peace settlement with the Xepheryans, but today I stand before you, fully believing that the peace settlement which we have agreed to is in our best interest. There is not a soul alive that remembers what it is like to live in a universe where we can call the Xepheryans brothers, but I hope, one day, that will once more be possible. This war has gone on for too long and claimed too many lives. There is not a family on this moon who has not been personally affected by this tragedy. That belief is so strong that my own daughter, Princess Isabella, Heir Apparent to Mongrovia, is choosing to embrace this peace settlement with her whole being, and has such decided to agree to the Xepheryan proposal of marriage to their eldest Prince and Heir to the Xepheryan throne, Prince Edward."

Bella barely hears the murmurs that go through the crowd. Hardly feels the stares, eyes boring into the back of her head.

So much time had been spent agonizing over that one line. Her father had wanted to call it a 'sacrifice'. Bella had been adamant that it would send the wrong message. After all, she is not being forced. She is of age. She knows full well what she is agreeing to. Her own happiness pales in comparison to the possibility of ending a war more than century long.

Bella is liked by the people, she would be a fool not to recognise that. Naturally inclined toward action, she refused to sit idly in gilded chairs as the people suffered. The death of her mother and the stoic belief in the fair treatment of all carried over to her by her father had left her pragmatic. The princess had often been deemed lost in her youth, only to turn up reading stories to orphans, or covered in grime having helped the soup-kitchens. Much to her father's dismay, inaction was not her strength.

So when the Xepheryan king, King Edward II, proposed the marriage between his eldest and Bella herself, there was little debate on her part. She was in a unique position of being able to encourage her people to see the Xepheryans not as monsters, but as people, worthy of personhood, not by making speeches, but by taking action. Leading by example.

The reason for the marriage is pragmatic enough. Xepheryans had experienced a sweeping viral outbreak almost three decades ago, heavily affecting birth-rates. Fewer children were being born with each passing year and no one knew quite why, or how to fix it. Although her father, Charlie, had never admitted it outright, Bella had heard rumours among the older royal advisors that indicated that the virus that killed more than half the population of Xepherya and was still wreaking havoc was in fact Mongrovia-made, a hushed up project from Bella's own grandfather. Is it then so wrong that a member of the Mongrovian royal family should fix this wrong? Bella sees some form of poetic retribution in it. A way to selfishly calm her inner guilt for the genocide her family has potentially caused.

"This is not an act of subjugation, or oppression. When the throne passes to Princess Isabella, she alone will have the right to rule Mongrovia. Prince Edward will have no more than an advisory position on this moon, and the same goes for Princess Isabella on Xepherya. Whatever children they have will be the first to be the rightful and equal rulers of both moons."

This too Charlie had struggled with putting in the speech. The idea that Bella would be required to produce off-spring with a Xepheryan. All for a peace treaty. Bella tries not to think so much about that part. She has her duty. And her duty requires everything she can give if it yields peace.

She tunes out the rest of the speech. Words advisors insisted needed to be said, words about strength, or retaining their Mongrovian identity. Everyone knows peace is the only option. Just as the Xepheryans are slowly dying out, so are the Mongrovians, just for other reasons. Food supplies are short. The Mongrovian moon had had several bad yields four years in a row. People are starving, and the Xepheryans have the technology that will help stabilise the atmosphere.

Peace is the only option. They all know this. Platitudes are pointless.

Toward the end of her father's speech, Bella recognises her cue to get up and stand by his side. It is a short walk, from the front row to the podium. Four steps and there she is, staring out at a sea of people, the inhabitants of the capital, many of those she knows by name and even more cameras pointed her way. To many, it is their first time seeing her in ceremonial garb. The garment is an odd looking thing in Bella's own opinion, a large train billowing along her legs that is attached to an embroidered t-shirt shaped top with stiff short sleeves, leaving tailored trousers exposed in the front. It is meant to symbolise that women are also part of the working force, not just there to be on display, but Bella thinks getting rid of the train entirely would be wholly sufficient. Her arms are left bare, as per tradition, and her dark hair is pillowed on top of her head, the crown she wears having belonged to her late mother. It is platinum, inlaid with the gems that grow naturally on the Mongrovian moon, a pale ochre colour that glows in the dark. The embroidery matches the stones, terracotta and red, the colours of the royal house, and idly she wonders if she will ever have a chance to wear it again. Will that be too inflammatory? Will her heritage always be a point of contestation?

And yet, dressed to the nines as per her station in life, she is sure everyone who gazes upon her see a stranger. She recognises almost all of them. Seth, the engineer assistant. Leah, his sister, the pilot that had allowed Bella to sneak on-board a supply ship when she was sixteen. There is Sam, the leader of the orphanage and his wife Emily who runs a bakery. Billy, who needs no attribute. Countless others. Jacob.

 _Jake._

Her heart clenches when her eyes meet his. Dark pools of kindness and warmth, and for a split second she wonders what he thinks of her in that moment. Is she a stranger to him now? She wonders if he can see past the makeup. If he can tell that the coal-dark smudgings over her eyebrows make her feel like she is getting coal into her eyes with the faintest blink. If he can tell that wearing the war-paint makes her uncomfortable because it only enhances her natural paleness. If he knows that she doubts she will ever again be happy unless she is wrapped in his arms.

They have already made their goodbyes. Wrapped in twisted sheets, hidden in their secret place, pretending the world didn't exist. She had fallen asleep naked with his bare chest pressed up against her back not twelve hours ago.

 _Never again. This is your choice._ The thought is heavy in her mind. Not enough to change her mind, never enough to change her mind, just enough to ensure that personal happiness would be hard-fought.

Just as Bella is sure she is about to faint from lack of oxygen, Jake's mouth turns into the barest ghost of a smile. One faint wink, and she can breathe again. Jake understands. Understands that protecting their people needs to come first. Even if it kills them in the process.

Dragging her eyes away from the man she is sure she will always love, she realises her father has gone silent next to her. Her father was not in the habit of missing much, including the romance of his daughter and the son of his Defence minister. Had things turned out differently, they would have been a good match. Jacob would have made his daughter happy. If only.

"When I look at you, the citizens of Mongrovia, I have never felt so out of place dressed up in fancy jewellery." Bella's voice is sure, even from practice and conviction. She has to put Jake out of her mind, hide him away in the deepest recesses of her heart. "I hope, to most of you, you will remember me for my actions. For all the times I worked alongside you, and for the times I disregarded my poor father's health and acted without my own safety in mind." As expected, a quiet rumbling laugh goes through the crowd and some tension seeps out of them. Even the hover-crafts stationed over the gathering stop their fly-overs and maintain position, leaving the square eerily still.

"I am agreeing to marry Prince Edward of my own free will, and I am doing so knowing that peace is our only alternative. Our only hope of survival. Having said that, I hope to impart on you that from this moment forward, I will not be so reckless with my own well-being as I have been in my youth. From this moment forward, I am representing all of us, and the Xepheryans are very aware that to us, you and I are the same. A threat against me is a threat against us all. If I, someone whose mother was taken from her by a Xepheryan drone strike, can marry a Xepheryan, then I believe we can all agree to put our differences aside and see each other as one. Not three-hundred years ago, we were one people. We were the explorers, leaving our home-world of Xepherya to explore our neighbouring moon, which we named Mongrovia."

Bella takes a deep breath, attempting to take it all in. It will be years before she can return, and that is if everything goes according to plan. If either hers or Prince Edward's safety is compromised at any point she is sure it will only escalate the violence. She fears if that happens neither race will survive.

"When we sign the peace treaty later on today, peace is not achieved." Glancing toward the ministers she knows are most adamantly against this peace treaty, Bella hardens her gaze. "Peace is a long-term process, one we are only starting today. It is up to us and our children to promise to never again resort to violence. We need to allow diplomacy to play it course, to trust the system my father and I are trying to build. One day, our moons will have only one royal house and with that one governing system. Together we can ensure the safety of our home. Security is within our grasp. All we have to do is reach out and grasp it."

Placing both hands over her heart, Bella bows, to the applause and wailing of the crowd. She is dangerously close to being overcome with emotion, but her father's steady hand on her shoulder is enough for her to hold it together.

She cannot appear weak. She is the Princess.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

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2

That brief moment in the square is the last she sees of Jake.

Before she knows it, Bella is swept up in procedure. Bella and her father, along with a whole contingent of security, board a space-hopper that takes them to the newly appointed neutral space station. Bella tries not to think about the fact that a mere year ago this was the Xepheryan top-of-the-line drone-launcher.

She should be paying more attention. She should be making sure everything goes according to plan. That the table the final documents will be signed on is the correct round shape – there had been much contestation about the shape of the table, to ensure there would not be a 'head' of the table – and that the flowers in the hall are the correct ones, most definitely _not_ the shield flower of Xepherya that had originally been placed in vases by a naïve assistant. She needs to make sure to keep her father away from a particular family she knows was responsible for carrying out the order of killing her mother, she needs to make sure the Xepheryan head diplomat will not be replaced and that the Mongrovian diplomat lay off the drink—

So naturally, being escorted into the heavily armed, heavily monitored enclave in which the peace treaty will be signed, hundreds of holo-cameras pointed at her face, all she can think of is her own skin colour.

Most Mongrovians have a slight tint to their skin, ranging from olive to light molasses, due to the lighter atmosphere. But Bella, as a member of the royal family, comes from careful breeding, and her light skin signifies her status. Odd, then, that Xepheryans, with their cloudier skies and thicker atmosphere are naturally as pale as Bella. For once, she is not the palest in the room, and it unsettles her. As if she is somehow betraying her own people by being too alike.

Jake's skin is always a warm, rich colour.

It is wholly illogical. A silly thought, but one that stays with her.

When Bella and her father finally enter the room proper, Bella lays eyes on King Edward II for the first time.

Bella has to quell the initial instinct to recoil. She has never met the man in person, yet he is wholly familiar. Greying short-cut hair, pale, ice-cold eyes sat on a high forehead with broad shoulders. He is taller than she expected him to be. Facing him in the crowded room it is difficult not to remember the countless of promotional videos she has seen in her life, holo-vids spinning truth, others justifying violence that left her moon torn. How many lives is King Edward personally responsible for taking?

 _How many lives is her own father responsible for?_

It is a sickening thought, but one that reminds her that peace _is the only option_. The King might be a monster, and she might have to live in the same palace as him, but not _everyone_ on Xepherya is evil. She refuses to believe it.

Her attention is stolen as a slim young man appears behind the King.

 _His son._

Like his father, Bella recognises his face. Prince Edward III. Her betrothed husband.

He is handsome, for a Xepheryan, even Bella has to admit this. Tall, chiselled features, a composed air and a strong build accentuated by his military uniform. Yet, all she can think is that he is all _wrong_. His skin is too pale. His eyes too green. His hair too red – almost the colour of the stones on her crown. In fact, he is almost Jake's exact opposite. Willowy instead of built. Cold instead of warm.

Maybe it is easier this way. If there are similarities her heart will struggle.

Just for one moment, she closes her eyes. One moment, to remember the feeling of Jake's arms around her, to remember that this is not betrayal. That he _knows_. The marriage is a necessity. A business-arrangement. She has no illusions that this will turn into love. Recoils from the mere idea. Her heart is taken. Maybe the Prince's is too and he is having similar thoughts. Duty over desire. The idea calms her. As long as they are both cordial, as long as they can overcome the base hatred their races have for one another – that in itself will be a miracle.

When she opens her eyes she is collected. But she has been spotted.

None other than Prince Edward is staring right at her, muted green eyes assessing with cold indifference. They are not yet seated. There are dozens of feet and multiple people between them, and yet she is very aware that a large portion of the negotiation is happening right now. His stare is nearly enough to cause a chink in her armour, nearly enough to penetrate her calm, but finding his appraisal to be more calculating than threatening she looks away.

Ultimately, his opinion means nothing.

She is escorted to the round table by her father, and with six seated, four royals and two mediators, nearly three dozen crowding the walls and countless holo-lenses pointed at them, the signing begins.

There are speeches. By the mediators. By her father. By King Edward. It is all platitudes. The real work is already done.

A century of deep-rooted hatred and fear will not be erased by the signing of a document. Bella knows this. Deep in her heart, she fears they are not doing enough.

After what seems like hours, it is her turn. Her father, King Edward II and Prince Edward have already signed, and now it is her turn. She looks at the document that has appeared in front of her, the holo-pad large enough to account for the multiple biometric readings.

A drone-camera floats to capture her face and she gazes calmly into the lens.

"I, Isabella Marie of the House of Mongrovia hereby ratify this treaty and swear to uphold all that lay within. I pledge to honestly and with all future intention protect and serve both peoples of the moons of Olympia and to never show preference. I swear to never again take sides or take violent action again either peoples."

With several dozen devices recording her voice, she finally turns her gaze downward, placing her hand onto the screen to sear a biometric signature onto the document, sealing her commitment.

Flashes are going, holo-videos and pictures taken non-stop as Bella and Prince Edward stand up.

This part is rehearsed. Not with all principle actors at the same time, but practiced none the less.

Prince Edward mirrors Bella as they both walk around the table, meeting on one side where two high-priests stand – one from each moon. The religion is the same, same traditions with small variations. Yet, they need separate priests.

As previously decided, Bella rests her left hand in the outstretched palm of her own priest. His grasp is warm and calloused; his face holding an expression that lacks the normal joy he usually has when performing weddings.

Without looking up, she places her right into the other outstretched hand in her periphery, linking the four of them together in a circle. Prince Edward's skin is smooth. Cold. A shiver runs down her spine. Is his hold light because he feels equally misplaced? Or because he cannot stand to touch her?

The sleeve of his uniform rubs against her wrist. Bella struggles not to throw up.

No going back now.

* * *

a/n: Interesting fact of the day, the two minor hiccups described in this chapter's signing process (the shape of the table and the flowers placed in the hall) are actual true events that occurred in two separate real-life peace processes. The shape of the table being a consideration in the recent Colombian peace process and the flowers pertaining to the peace process in Northern Ireland, where a type of lily was placed in the halls to the building unthinkingly that was heavily connected to one side and thus had to be changed.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

This story was very gracefully rec'd by Twilight FanFiction Pays it Forward on FB which I am simply astounded by. Thank you to all who reviewed and favourited!

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3

"Your Highness." Emmett pulls out her chair, and Bella rearranges her skirt before sitting down with a nod.

"How many times have I told you to call me Bella, Emmett?" Bella says under her breath, daring a quick look at the man she has known since he was in diapers.

"Obviously not enough, Your _Highness_." There is great comfort in knowing that she is not alone on this alien moon. Emmett was chosen to be her personal bodyguard, the only person authorised to protect Bella against even the Xepheryan royal family without causing a relapse into war. He has given up everything, his home, his family, all to live as Bella's shadow. Her gratitude is immense. Her own personal relief immeasurable. His sun-kissed skin and dark eyes settle some of her internal panic. Any other time Bella would have gotten annoyed at him, but this is not the time.

The banquet is winding down. Her wedding banquet. Her wedding to the alien Prince she is still not fully convinced she is not at war with. Bella has had to limit the amount of times she excuses herself to freshen up. The thicker atmosphere is stifling, the humidity leaving her feeling as if she's just stepped out of a shower. She doesn't understand how the natives stand it. She can barely take a full breath.

However, she cannot move without two dozen eyes watching her, making sure she is not a secret assassin or that she is not about to run away screaming. The conversation around her is forced. She is seated at the royal table – her new family – with Prince Edward, her _husband_ , on her left side. Further along the table sits King Edward and his wife, a woman that dared to give Bella a smile and look her in the eye. Bella doesn't trust the action. She is sure the young couple at the table is Prince Edward's sister and her husband, but she pays them no attention.

Emmett stands behind her chair, trying to be inconspicuous whilst being intimidating at the same time. He towers over almost everyone around her, hulking muscle and set jaw, it is clear he will not hesitate to kill to protect her. He has insisted on trying all her food and drink before she has any herself. She wants to scream at him for being ridiculous. Then she remembers where she is. They are like a pair of sore thumbs, sticking out in their traditional Mongrovian clothing. The Xepheryan garb is all cool tones, blues, harsh greens and light yellows. Everything about this planet seems cold, with the exception of the humidity. It is overcast. Supposedly it is like this most of the time.

The royal palace is undoubtedly breath-taking. The splendour is unparalleled, centuries of history apparent everywhere she looks. If she was not so terrified she would most likely be itching to explore. This is, after all, where her people came from, where her ancestors lived. Instead she finds it hard to focus on much of anything except for the faceless sea of people, hundreds of them all sneaking glances when they think she is not looking.

King Edward stands up. With a strained smile encourages everyone to pay attention to the first dance. It takes a second for Bella to realise that she will be the one dancing. Has she always been this sluggish?

Prince Edward pushes his chair out and offers Bella his palm as he stands. She has not looked at him throughout the whole meal, probably not looked him in the face since before the signing and having to touch him again causes a return of her nausea.

Bella's father has always kept her away from the military decisions, no matter her being the heir apparent. But maybe King Edward did not employ a similar strategy. Maybe the Prince holds more active responsibility than Bella does. He is older than her, after all.

Was he in the room when they decided to launch the final attack on the Mongrovian moon seven months ago? Had he watched as drones killed more than two thousand people and laughed in joy? People Bella knew? People Bella buried?

With the contents of her stomach rebelling against her, she stands, and places her palm in Prince Edward's. There is music in the background, meant to be jovial she is sure, but she feels as if she is being led to slaughter. When they reach the dancefloor Prince Edward places his free hand very loosely on her upper waist and Bella reciprocates by placing her empty hand on his shoulder. Her gaze is drawn to the side, glancing out over their clasped hands, and their similar skin-tones are again at the forefront of her mind. At least he is so tall that any attempts at looking him in the eye would have appeared odd. The top of her head barely reaches his chin.

The music changes and they are moving, dancing effortlessly. Some distant part of her recognises that Prince Edward is a good dancer.

Soon, they are joined by other couples. The other royals. Other dignitaries. Mediators and diplomats that Bella knows from the past few months.

There is more than a handful of young women that glare openly at Bella, jealousy plain as day. Does Prince Edward love one of them, Bella wonders? Did they encourage the Prince to do whatever it took for peace, like Jake had done, or had they fought and argued, throwing his decision in his face?

Did Prince Edward have a say? Or was he ordered to marry with no option to say no?

More and more she mentally locks down, concealing herself in some distant corner, hiding from all the pain. Thinking of it all, focusing on the fact that the suffering of her people; the death of her mother, the countless raids and attacks, rapes, plunders and destruction…can most likely be traced back to the individuals in this very room, will send her crumbling to the floor. She stays in the moment by occasionally glancing at Emmett, never too far away, and feeling the cold weight of the Prince's hands on her body.

When the dancing finishes, a grand confectionary is brought out. On Mongrovia, where sugar is so rare even Bella has never tasted any, weddings are concluded by the sipping of pear-wine by the happy couple, the bottle thrown to the floor as a final measure. Here, the confectionary needs cut and the bride and groom need to feed one another.

Bella shoos Emmett away – the cake is intended for the Prince as well.

Prince Edward cuts a portion with a fork and raises a small piece to Bella's lips. She keeps her eyes averted as she swallows, the soft sponge-like texture sticking against the roof of her mouth as she battles the overpowering sweetness. She has only ever tasted anything this sweet when her and Jake stole honey from the kitchen pantries.

Next, it is her turn. Copying the Prince's motions, this time she cannot avoid looking at him.

The expression that greets her is fierce, almost frightening in its intensity. His green eyes seem to burn into hers, fury battling incredulity and confusion. She can't stop the flinch. She feels threatened. Prince Edward's brow twitches, as if he has seen her fear, and he clears his countenance just in time for Bella to watch his lips close around the fork.

Applause breaks out, a bit less restrained than it had been earlier, but Bella does not dare look away from him now. Has she angered him by her aloofness? Has he been trying to speak to her and she has not even noticed?

When the Prince turns to the crowd, raising an arm to silence them, his face is composed.

"Friends, on behalf of Princess Isabella and I, we want to thank you all for attending our joyous day. I can honestly say that no matter how important today is for me personally, the day I have pledged myself to a partner who I will cherish and put before all others until my dying breath, and the person who will be the future mother of my children, it pales in comparison to what we have done today as a people. Peace is among us. We have finally taken the most important step in our people's history, that of reunification with Mongrovia. Today, I am proud to be Xepheryan, proud of my Mongrovian wife."

There is hesitation among the crowd, but finally applause starts, from the Prince's sister of all people.

"That said, sadly, all good things must come to an end, so now I must wish you all a good night and safe travels. As tonight is a night of celebration, the alcohol ban has been lifted until noon tomorrow and so I encourage you all to continue your merriment as you leave the palace. To the stars and back, my friends."

 _To the stars and back_ is echoed back by the crowd, the Xepheryan state saying, but Bella notices not everyone is happy with the Prince's speech. There are glances, brows furrowed, sneers quickly hidden behind smiles and applause. The Prince elevating a Mongrovian to an equal position is not accepted by all, it seems.

Prince Edward extends his arm and Bella loops hers through his without much thought. She is preoccupied thinking about his words. Does the Prince mean everything he said? Cherish? Put before all else? Surely it is all for show.

They walk out of the room through the big double doors, cheers following them and guards saluting as they walk past. Bella feels Emmett's light step behind them, her ever present shadow. Not even he can protect her for what is coming next.

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a/n: To those that feel that this chapter is a filler, I ask for your trust. It was necessary to lay some groundwork for later events. The chapter you are all waiting for is coming tomorrow, just a little more patience. And tomorrow's is a long chapter as well, to make it worth your while.


	4. Chapter 4

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

fair warning, this chapter is what warrants this story having an M-rating.

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4

The door into the Prince's private quarters closes behind them. After the loud banquet, the silence created by the sound-proof walls is almost deafening. As Emmett steps around the couple to do a sweep of the many rooms, Bella takes a moment to observe what is to be her new home. The décor is modern, glass panels breaking up an otherwise large sitting room. Sleek lines are accentuated by native metals Bella has only ever seen on crashed Xepheryan war-drones.

Abstract art covers the walls, giving colour to an otherwise black and white space. She almost feels as if she's on a spaceship. The only thing that proves to her that she is indeed on solid ground is the floor to ceiling window that shows off the capital of Xepherya from high above, all ancient architecture and cathedrals mixed in with skyscrapers that seem to reach for the sky and disappear into the clouds. Despite the late hour, the city is lit up in brilliant colours, almost giving off enough light on the ground to pass for daylight. Mongrovian military has never been able to breech the capital of Xepherya, so unlike Bella's home which is constantly battle-scarred, this place is pristine.

Emmett comes back and gives Bella the all clear, retreating into a corner near a grouping of couches. Bella is still holding onto the Prince's arm and she wonders how this next part is going to unfold. Everyone in the room, including awkwardly enough Emmett, knows what is about to happen, but there is no rehearsing this transition.

The Prince clears his throat and without letting go of Bella's arm takes a tentative step into the middle of the room.

"This is the Eastern Royal Apartment. My—our private space in the palace. We will not be disturbed here. With your arrival access codes have been changed so the only people who are free to enter is the two of us and Mr McCarthy, who is welcome to review the safety protocols at his leisure."

Bella sees Emmett nod out of the corner of her eye, but it does nothing to alleviate the awkwardness that has taken over her every thought. She is not afraid of what is about to happen, per say. She is no virgin, and she strongly doubts the Prince is either. Neither has he made any attempt of 'attacking' her in any fashion. If anything, he seems more disinterested than anything. The most emotion she has seen from him was his very brief flash of anger at the cake-cutting, which in this moment she is not fully sure she had not imagined.

"Down the hall to the left are my quarters, and yours are mirrored on the right. We have separate bathrooms and bedrooms, as well as sitting rooms. I use them as a study and an extra leisure space, but you are welcome to do with your rooms as you wish. Mr McCarthy has his own bedroom in your corridor as well. For… _safety_ purposes, my father has insisted on surveillance in the corridors. I hope this is agreeable."

Safety purposes. Bella almost laughs. The only reason to have cameras inside the apartment would be to watch them, watch Bella and Emmett. Maybe the King wants to ensure that Bella does not sleep with her guard. If only he knew how wrong that would be.

"Mr McCarthy and I have no issue with there being a camera in the corridor." Bella's voice is dry as sandpaper. Her throat is unnaturally raspy all of a sudden.

If the Prince is embarrassed by the implication, he does not show it. He simply leads Bella to one of the couches and as she sits he walks over to a large bar, liquids of a million colours in beautiful glass flasks covering a whole section of wall.

"I may not have the Mongrovian spirits, but I should have something similar. Do you have a preference?"

For a moment, Bella considers turning down the offer. But liquid courage might be needed, and with the way the Prince is staring at the bottles it seems he is equally uncomfortable.

"Normally…I would drink _Glìa_ , it is a strong liqueur made from grain and honey."

The prince nods, considering the many flasks before him until he reaches for a tonic with a brilliant red hue, pouring two fingers worth into a crystal tumbler. He hands the glass straight to Emmett who has appeared out of the shadows, and after Emmett has taken a sip it is passed to Bella. Bringing it to her lips sweetness explodes in her mouth, fruit she can never hope to name, sweeter than her normal drink but incredibly pleasant. When she looks up the Prince is seated in front of her on the opposing couch, an amber liquid in his own glass, gazing calmly at her.

"It is called _Eviscus_. Very popular. It is made from the royal berry. Deceptively strong. Has knocked more than one military man off his feet."

Acknowledging the warning, Bella sips her drink slowly, unable to stop herself from licking the liquid off her lips. The heat of the alcohol is really quite something. The Prince catches her doing it. She has to look away.

"As I was saying," Prince Edward continues, having shifted in his seat, "your room…I will treat as your own. I wish you to be comfortable here. You have come to an alien… _hostile_ moon and nothing I say will likely put you at ease. You are welcome into my room as you please, all I ask is that you leave my study as my personal space." This, Bella feels is a simple enough concession and she nods easily. "As you will see, I have installed a lock on your bedroom door. You are able to programme it as you please."

In many ways, Bella is astounded. She had not expected this level of autonomy. Had not expected to have her own bedroom, or what surely amounts to her own wing of the apartment. If he has gone to all this trouble to keep her away from him or because he is being thoughtful, she does not know. Perhaps it does not matter, Bella is grateful she does not have to share a bedroom with the Prince. Time to herself is something she has craved ever since they landed.

Looking out over the city, the Prince takes another sip of his drink before cradling his glass in his hands. He has very long fingers. Bella has never noticed that before.

"Computer, music please. Playlist five." At his command, soft tinkling music, something that sounds like a stringed instrument, fills the room. The Prince visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping. Bella doesn't know what to make of it. "If you are comfortable, Princess, I would like to speak to you privately."

There it is, she thinks. The transition. A polite way of getting Emmett out of the room. It was tactful, she has to give him that.

When she looks over at Emmett he is giving her a concerned look. She can tell he doesn't want to leave Bella alone, but even a bodyguard has to have limits. Bella already feels like a prostitute, no need to whore herself out for more people to see. _Especially_ Emmett.

"Emmett, you may retire for the night. In the morning I would like to go over some of our safety protocols."

Emmett clenches his jaw, knuckles tight at his sides, but he knows better than to comment.

"Of course, Your Highness." Emmett's boots echo as he walks down the hall, the soft thud of his bedroom door closing behind him causing Bella to shiver. For the very first time she is alone with the Prince. Control is quickly slipping from her grasp and a sudden desperate need to do this on her own terms grips her throat, constricting her breathing.

"Prince Edward, I want you to know that I am here of my own free will." She is pleased her voice is stronger than she had expected. Perhaps the drink is doing more than she had first thought. Still, she does not have enough courage to look the Prince in the eye. The wall behind him will do. "I understand women's rights on Xepherya are not as far progressed as they are on Mongrovia so I feel the need to clarify that if I did not personally believe in this peace and the conditions that come with it, I would not have come. I am…fully committed. And that includes producing a royal heir. With you."

Bella dares a quick look at the Prince who is looking at her head on, the smallest hint of a crooked smile on his lips. It does an insurmountable change to his appearance. It makes him almost look…welcoming.

"Perhaps, if I may be so bold, as we are now married – by the traditions of _two_ peoples – perhaps we can allow ourselves to venture onto a first name basis when in private? I would prefer it if you, as my wife, called me Edward."

Between the barely there smile and his words, it is easy to see that the Prince can be very charming – when he so wants to. It does the opposite of what she is sure he intended to do. It sets her on edge. She has to remind herself that it is not his fault she has grown up with a healthy suspicion of charming men.

"Edward, then. If you so will, you may call me Bella." She never did like Isabella. The Prince might not be a friend, but having him of all people call her Isabella would be even worse. Only her mother ever called her that.

"Bella." He accompanies the pronunciation of her name with a faint nod of his head, finishing off his drink in one smooth motion. "I am glad to hear you are not being forced. I suppose I should reiterate that I too am doing this of my own free will. The idea was my father's, and although I had reservations I do believe this is the best way to ensure a peace of any longevity." Taking a deep breath, the Prince almost takes on an exasperated expression. "Whilst outside of these rooms, we have to present a certain front. I am sure you are aware of such pretences." Bella did, in fact, not know as much of those pretences that it seemed would be necessary on this moon, but she declines to comment. The Prince does not need to know how close she is to her people. "However, inside of these rooms I would like us to be ourselves. If at all possible I would like us to be pleasant with one another."

A shared glance between them and something settles in Bella's stomach. It is the barest hint of something, but she swears she can see pain flash across his face. Pain that she can recognise as easily as if it was a beacon in the darkest night. _Heartache_. It strengthens her courage, gives her strength.

"I would like that as well, Pri— _Edward_. I do not mean to be callous, but we are both adults here." Taking a deep breath, she takes another sip of her drink. It really is very pleasant. She will have to remember the name. "This does not have to be any more than a business arrangement. I am sure we both have bigger problems than worrying about marital issues. We are working toward a common goal. Peace. Two prosperous moons. If we can be open with one another…there is hardly any need for shyness. I am sure, despite what our fathers have spoken of, we are both young people with enough… _experience_ …that our marital relations need just be a formality."

"Agreed."

They share a pointed look, and despite not being spoken, there is understanding between them. There will be no need for romance or awkwardness. There are no first-timers in this room.

"I doubt anyone expects us to be a true honeymooning couple, anyway." Bella dares laugh briefly, a harsh sound that is more pointed than she had intended, but the Prince seems to take it well, rolling his eyes as he leans back in his seat.

"No, I dare say if we are _too_ much in love there will be trouble." The ice in the Prince's empty glass taps against the edge, the rhythm oddly soothing. "Also, if there is not _enough_ love, we will equally be crucified by the press and aristocracy alike. True feelings would be most troublesome in this situation."

Perhaps it is the alcohol, but Bella feels much more relaxed. If anything, it feels like the liquor has taken the edge off both of their stiffness. They are almost being friendly. If they can keep this mood up for the rest of the night that would make everything easier. Professional, but detached. Ignore all implications of their races and just focus on this one task.

It is only this thought that allows Bella to say what has been nagging at her ever since she decided on coming to Xepherya.

"I have a favour to ask." The Prince's raised eyebrow is her only reply and she pushes on. "When we—when we have sex, can we please refrain from the romance of it?" She is mortified to even have to speak of it like this, but this is not the time to be shy. "It would be easier if we could just…see it as something that we do. Because it is required of us."

His blank stare is enough to make Bella squirm, but eventually he nods, very slowly. She watches the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he clears his throat and speaks, his tone one would use when speaking of the weather.

"In the spirit of openness and explicitness, without sounding imprudent, I suppose it would be best if we could both agree to…to stay committed? At least until we have an heir and the political and military situations have calmed."

This time it is Bella's turn to raise an eyebrow. This she had not expected. Faithfulness from her new husband is not something she has ever considered. Nothing she particularly wants. So for him to bring it up himself? Surely he is imposing a greater restriction on his own person, he who is still on his own planet. The only person Bella can ever want is not even on this moon.

"Of course. The situation can always be reassessed at a later…date."

Silence settles between the two that no amount of pleasant background music can overcome. They have said everything that needs saying.

The clink of the Prince's glass as he sets it on a side table is loud in Bella's ears.

"Can I offer you another drink?" Is she imagining that the Prince's voice is unsteady?

"No, thank you." She is already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

"Let me show you around." The Prince is on his feet, one hand extended in Bella's direction. Her heart is suddenly pounding out of her chest. She has only ever been intimate with one person. For a long time she thought she would only ever be intimate with one person in her whole life. To suddenly double that number feels wrong.

Still, she places her glass to the side and stands up, taking the Prince's hand. She is starting to recognise the feel of his palm.

"Like I said, to the right are your quarters, I'll let you explore that in your own time. This down here is my—well, this is the other half."

Part of Bella wants to scream and laugh, telling the Prince to just get a grip and stop trying to pretend that they were about to do anything except for having very awkward sex that two whole moons knew was about to happen. However, the part of her that wants to jump out of her own skin is stronger and so she remains silent as they start walking down the hall. They are still holding hands as they pass countless art and the Prince quietly announces when they pass by a sitting room, which Bella is welcome to use, or his study, the door to which is closed. Finally they pause outside of a set of double doors which the Prince opens, releasing Bella's hand to do so.

They enter a large bedroom, a king-sized bed on the far-side wall with an iron-wrought headboard which is stark against the mute wall. Just like the living areas, this room would be cold in white and blacks if it was not for the artwork, and Bella is oddly reassured by the thick carpet on the floor. Almost as if the small luxury reminds her that the Prince is also a person in need of worldly comforts, not just a caricature.

Bella hears the Prince closing the door behind them but she does not look. She is looking at the bed, her ceremonial dress warm and snug around her, and for the first time since arriving on the planet she feels cold. Everything in her is screaming to keep the fabric on.

The same music that was in the living room is playing here, coming from hidden speakers, but it might as well be blaring war-sirens for all Bella is concerned. She is hyper aware of the Prince behind her, his form still, as if they are both questioning whether or not they are actually going to do this.

She signed up for this, she reminds herself.

The reminder does not stop her from flinching when she feels the Prince's hands on her upper arms.

"I'm sorry." His voice is low in her ear. What exactly he is apologising for she does not know.

It would be so easy, to close her eyes and pretend that those hands belong to someone else. Turn around, kiss him, remember heated touches in dim-lit corridors, remember shoulders she knows so well, bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe in a scent that is pure sunshine…

But she can't. Those are sacred memories, memories she holds dear. She cannot – will not – ruin them by dragging them into the present. No matter if it would mean less physical discomfort. She has born far worse in the past.

"It's okay." Her voice is a whisper, but she crosses her arms over her chest, covering the Prince's hands with her own.

"I don't mean to—I need to…to touch you."

Instantly Bella feels bad. She is putting all this on him, cowering as if he is forcing himself on her. So far, he is making this easy for her. She should at least try to do her part.

Forcing the panic away, Bella reaches up and starts undoing the pins in her hair. The Prince's hands move to rest on her waist and Bella thinks of nothing else than the weight of his palms as they rest on her hipbones. The gentle pressure as the pins release, her long hair falling down her shoulders. Finally, she is holding the royal crown in her grasp, observing it with an odd sense of nostalgia.

"I suppose I will need one that signifies the unification of the moons."

"So do we both." The Prince reaches round and gently takes the crown from her hands, his shoes muffled as he walks over to a side table, gently depositing both Bella's and his own crown. She had never taken the time to look at the circlet around his head. No wonder, it is a simple thick metallic circle, an odd turquoise sheen to the metal. It disappears almost entirely behind his hair, only really visible over his forehead where it sits over his temples.

"Would you be able to help me?" Bella tucks her hair over one shoulder, exposing the clasp of her dress as she turns her back to the Prince.

As gentle fingers undo her garment, Bella's eyes are firmly trained on the two crowns, the Prince's bigger than her own, lying side by side. Monumental, her father had called this day.

Peace. It is worth _everything_.

More grounded than she has been in hours she calms, allowing the Prince to slowly undress her, every piece placed carefully on a chair next to their jewellery. Standing naked in front of him, her back still turned, she hears how he slowly undresses. When he too places his clothes next to hers, military gear, a sash signifying his royal status, all the way down to his shoes, she tries to ignore the shape of his shoulders, the bunching of his abdomen as he moves.

When he stands behind her and gently kisses the side of her neck, duty is the only thing on Bella's mind. She is doing this so that no one ever has to lose a mother, like she has. She is doing this so no one ever has to wonder if a decades old virus is making them infertile. They are odd thoughts to be having on your wedding night, but they are honest.

Neither of them move to kiss one another. The Prince kisses her on the shoulder and neck, and Bella caresses his forearms as he holds her. When he tries to turn her around to sit down on the bed, she stops him. If they do not have to look each other in the eye that will surely be easier for both of them. The Prince somehow understands and Bella moves to crawl on the bed, his chest still pushed up against her back. She feels his hardness against her upper thigh, thick and insistent, and his hands on her hips are solid grounding points.

Even without him touching her, she knows she is dry as sandpaper. She is struggling to find anything remotely sexual about the current situation, can hardly believe that the Prince is managing to stay hard. She has to wet her own fingers and apply moisture to aid them both. The clinical act hardens her heart. How she could ever have been worried about being unable to separate between this and _Jake_.

When he finally pushes into her the intrusion is odd but not unwelcome.

The act itself is short. No romance. Just as she had asked. When he finishes, Bella feels nothing but sadness that this might be how a child is conceived. She has to ignore his muffled exhale as he climaxes.

Afterwards, as Bella is trying to find the strength to get up, the Prince gets up first, walking naked over to the bathroom. Physically he really is very attractive. If only he was attractive _to her_.

He returns quickly with a thin floor-length robe, obviously one of his own. Bella slips into it as she gets up, ignoring the stickiness down her thighs. With the belt secure around her waist, she gathers up her clothes, her shoes in one hand and her crown in the other. Turning back to face the Prince for the first time since before they were intimate, she realises he is sitting under the covers, his chest bare as he reclines, his eyes faraway with one of his free hands raking through his hair.

"Would it suit you if I came by every night just after midnight?" Bella asks, the Prince's green eyes finally meeting hers. "Just until I…until I become pregnant."

The Prince's expression is unreadable. Bella has no idea if he is disgusted, pleased or even ambivalent about what has just happened.

"That will be fine."

Bella nods, rearranging the things in her hands so she can open the door.

"Goodnight, Edward."

"Goodnight, Bella."

Bella closes the door behind her and pads barefoot through the dim apartment, passing the living area in a daze. At least if anyone checked the security cameras she can be seen to have fulfilled her duty. She turns down her own corridor, noticing the light under the bedroom which must be Emmett's. On a whim, she knocks five times in a pattern, just like she used to do when they were children, waiting until she hears the pattern repeated from the other side. A small signal to let Emmett know she is in one piece, but saves her having to face him.

She continues down the corridor, arriving at an identical set of doors to the Prince's bedroom set. Opening the door, she slips inside, dropping her clothes onto the floor as soon as she is inside. The crown gets marginally more attention as she places it on the first surface she can find. The room is warmly lit, decorated in far warmer colours than the rest of the apartment. Bella barely has time to take in the large bed and the open wardrobe where she can see all her personal belongings already unpacked before she sees it. It is enough to drive the breath from her body, her tired legs stumbling until she has to catch herself on a bedpost.

A painting hangs, just behind the door, clearly visible from the bed. It is the only piece of art in the room, the canvas covering nearly the whole wall.

The motif is rather unremarkable. A circular meadow, filled with wildflowers. In the sky, a faint silhouette of Olympia is visible even in the daylight. It is obvious from the trees that the subject is Mongrovian.

Unremarkable, really, but Bella would recognise that painting anywhere.

Her legs are too unsteady to walk, so she crawls across the floor, a hand reaching for the very bottom corner of the painting. A signature in a messy scrawl greets her, the ridges of the paint jagged under her fingertips. She has not seen this painting in over a decade.

 _Renée_

The canvas had been lost in one of the many raids on the Mongrovian planet by pirates. Bella never imagined she would ever see it again. Her mother. Right here, watching over her.

When she sobs at the bottom of the painting she feels like a child again, crying without really knowing what she is crying for.


	5. Chapter 5

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

5

Weeks pass. A routine is established.

Every morning, Bella wakes up, rolls out of bed and takes a shower in her adjoining bathroom. She pins her hair in a style that is indicative of Mongrovian royalty, pairing it with a thin circlet fitting of a Xepheryan princess. She dresses in a carefully compiled mixture of clothes, always at least one item from each moon. Women on Xepherya do not wear trousers, but Bella is determined to change this.

After she is dressed she enters her study where Emmett is waiting, already eating from an array of breakfast that has been set up. At the same time, Emmett will be reading the latest security read-outs to assess anything that could potentially target Bella. She tries not to think about how many potential threats are flagged every day.

Halfway through breakfast, Lady Rosalie Hale, Bella's appointed lady in waiting, will appear, her beautiful face set in a sneer as she observes Emmett engulfing his meal. Rosalie has been appointed to Bella by Xepheryan custom, and although she had at first been ready to turn down the offer, there is something refreshing about Rosalie's taciturn countenance. She is an astoundingly beautiful woman, an hour-shaped figure with a miniscule waist, with the palest blonde hair and blue eyes that shine in the light. It is only after Bella realises that almost every woman in the palace whispers as Rosalie walks past that Bella decides to keep her.

Rosalie never says a kind word. Bella is rather happy to keep it that way. Comfortable quiet is established after a week, and Bella is saved from having to make small-talk with others. Rosalie is the best deterrent for social convention Bella has ever encountered. She is unsure what Rosalie has done to earn the scorn of the court, but attributing it to jealousy of her beauty seems easy enough. Bella does not have the mental energy to think of it further. Furthermore, Bella is not blind. She can see how her lady in waiting and her bodyguard steal glances at one another when they think the other is not watching. Bella is happy to let this happen as it will. She doubts anything will come of it.

Rosalie is one of four members of staff that have been given clearance to enter the royal apartment. One maid, Maggie, to straighten up the common areas, and one chef, Benjamin, to deliver the morning meal. There is also James, the Prince's bodyguard, but Bella avoids him as much as possible. Two rooms remain off-limits; the Prince's study and Bella's bedroom. Bella does not allow even the maid in her bedroom. She never mentions the painting to the Prince and he never brings it up. It is too big of a coincidence for the Prince not to know the significance of having that canvass placed in her personal bedroom. Perhaps the painting was requisitioned by the Xepheryan royal family some years past and put into storage, only to be brought out by the Prince when the peace agreement was organised as a lucky happenstance. Or, more worryingly, perhaps the Prince, who seems to know art, knew of this painting being somewhere on Xepherya and actually expedited effort in retrieving it especially for Bella. No matter, the act is too intimate. Too grand. Bella has no way of reciprocating. No way of putting into words how much that painting means to her. Especially not to a member of the Xepheryan royal family. Is it meant as an apology for having her mother killed? As an apology it is too little. As an act of kindness it is too much.

After breakfast Bella turns to her desk where she replies to any communiqués from her father and reads over key-notes from Mongrovian parliament. She is wary of the state-budget not allocating enough on state welfare and she is concerned her father is dragging the process on allowing Xepheryan scientists onto Mongrovia to take samples of the atmosphere. She reviews the public documents of Xepherya, processes which she is not yet involved in, but hopes to have an understanding of for the future. She knows the Prince has a legislative role in training, but it has yet been decided if she will have any powers by her own right.

When the sun is at its highest, a bell will toll through the palace and Bella will gather her things and leave her study, Emmett and Rosalie following her silently. She will meet with the Prince in the common lounge where he will usually be accompanied by James who will always grace Bella with a look that is a beat too long. As no comment or look has ever been inappropriate, Bella has no option but to ignore him.

Linking arms, the couple will walk through the palace into the large gazebo where the royal family dines every day openly to the people. Food and drink is free, enabling every inhabitant that can get a seat to have at least one meal a day. She will sit, the Prince on one side, and Rosalie on the other, and she will quietly ignore the small-talk of the rest of the royal family. The Prince will often speak to his sister, a woman Bella can only describe as vapid. Bella has yet to hear Princess Alice speak of anything that is not clothing-related. Sometimes the Queen, Queen Elizabeth, will attempt to engage Bella, but these conversations never last long.

After lunch, Bella and the Prince with Emmett, James, and Rosalie following, will walk through the capital, buying small trinkets, pretending to be happy. It is done in the hopes of showing unity between the royal houses, proof that the treaty is working, yet it is the worst part of Bella's day. Logically, she knows that the average Xepheryan on the street had nothing to do with the war. She knows that they are not all evil. And yet…she can't help walking around, an uncomfortable weight in her stomach telling her she is _not safe_. Some instinctual knowledge, brought on by a lifetime of bad memories associated with everything Xepheryan. Some part of her is sure every inquisitive look from a passer-by is a potential threat, someone who thinks Bella is a danger to the Xepheryan way of life. Do they look at Bella and only see a Mongorivan in charge of millions of lives lost? How could they not think it when Bella struggles with the very same idea? _Dehumanisation_. Supposedly, that is the term for it. Before she came, diplomats and doctors warned her of this; the by-product of decades of propaganda, fear and pain on such a scale that the only thing that makes sense is to see the other side as non-persons. As monsters. Because how else can one justify the killing of millions?

Bella's instinctual fear extends all the way to the Prince, who, despite never having treated her with anything but professional detachment, is still _other_. Still part of the system that killed her mother. Her fear is her comfort, her reassurance that everything she has ever known is true. Because if she is wrong? If every Xepheryan is actually a fundamentally neutral or even well-wishing person? She doubts she can live with the guilt.

In the afternoon, Bella returns to her study where she finishes any work she failed to complete in the morning. Usually this will be updates that she is not meant to have, things sent to her by underground contacts back home that detail how two emerging rebel groups back on Mongrovia are unhappy with the peace treaty. There are whispers of attacks on civilians that Mongrovian police are having to contain. There are also hints of a group of aristocracy on Xepherya itself that is unhappy with the current rule. Bella reads these unverified news with growing alarm, knowing that the peace she has fought so hard to create can disappear in the blink of an eye.

The evening meal is had in the large dining room with the rest of the royal family, conversation once again stilted. She is accompanied to and from the hall by the Prince, and after the meal they return to their chambers where they will not see one another until just after midnight, when Bella puts on a robe, visits the Prince in his bedroom and then returns to her own after they are finished. She feels mechanical doing it. Not allowing herself to attribute any emotion to it. She is too afraid that if she opens herself up to feeling anything about it at all, she will fear it. Or it will somehow become painful. Numbness is safer. Protected. Hidden.

And so the days go.

Did Bella used to have hopes? Dreams? Did she use to laugh? She cannot remember.

At night, Bella has disturbing dreams of being in the meadow of her mother's painting, lying naked in the grass as Jake's laugher fills the air. But whenever she turns to find him, it is the Prince that greets her, watching her with such an open expression – an expression she has never seen on his face when conscious – and she wakes up confused and shivering.

She misses the sunlight. She even misses her stubborn father.

* * *

a/n: A number of people have enquired about any potential EPOVs. The story is told exclusively from Bella's perspective, but I am open to maybe doing an outtake from Edward's point of view - after the full story has been posted. If this is something people would be interested in let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

Due to a slightly hectic day I did not have time to reply to reviews, but I hope everyone knows that I appreciate every single one of them more than you know.

* * *

6

Six weeks after her wedding, routine is broken.

Bella wakes up feeling oddly clammy, her stomach unsettled. She never feels well when she wakes up from her dreams, but this is different. Not two minutes pass before she is darting to the bathroom, heaving the scant contents of her stomach.

A nagging thought in the back of her head tells her she knows what this is, but she is not prepared to fully acknowledge it. Just a stomach virus, she tells herself. The meat she had yesterday did look a bit odd, despite Emmett's assurances that it was fine. On shaky legs, resembling a newborn fawn, Bella drags herself to the shower, head still spinning. She ends up crouched on the bottom of the shower with her head in her lap, knowing that there is nothing in her stomach to expel.

By pure will, Bella drags herself out of the shower, not even bothering to dry her hair before she ties it back in a low bun at her neck. Back in her bedroom, the idea of putting on formal clothing is so absurd she nearly laughs. She's sick, that's it. Emmett has seen her in a worse state plenty of times, and Rosalie will not care. Formal clothes can wait until she has to leave the apartment. Bella compromises by putting on underwear and then grabs the first thing that will cover her.

She waits until she can stand before she walks out of her bedroom, moving slowly as if to not antagonise her stomach, imagining it to be some wild sleeping animal. She is clearly losing her mind.

As soon as she walks into her study the smell of food has her running back to her bathroom, retching into the toilet. Wretched does not begin to describe how she feels, the cool porcelain against her cheek like an anchor. This spot is safe.

Stomach virus, she repeats.

When she finally leaves her bedroom again, she finds Emmett standing in the corridor, massive arms crossed over his chest and his face set in an uncharacteristic scowl.

"What's wrong?" All pretence of rank is gone, Bella is too dizzy to even tease him about not calling her 'highness'.

"Just a stomach bug, that's all."

Emmett raises an eyebrow at her, his expression belaying his incredulity. His curly dark hair reminds her so much of her father it makes her uncomfortable for a whole other set of reasons.

"Bells—"

"I am fine, Emmett. Thank you." With a determination she doesn't think she possesses, she slinks past him and walks into the study, holding her breath until she can get to the armchair that sits under a window, which she promptly opens. Because of the time, Rosalie is already inside, sitting in her usual seat, the holo-pad in her hands suspended as if she was just in the process of adjusting the screen. However, unlike the normal scowl that usually greets Bella, Rosalie is watching her with what can only be descried as a stricken look; eyebrows drawn, eyes wider than usual, a tightening of her normally plump lips. Rosalie looks almost as gaunt as Bella does and the sight gives Bella little reassurance.

Sitting down she feels instantly better with the cool breeze from the window playing across her face. She knows she should eat, some distant notion telling her that she will feel less nauseous if she has something in her stomach, but being able to keep anything down when the mere smell of food makes her throw up does little to encourage the activity.

Emmett, who followed her inside, walks up to Bella after having poured her a glass of water, which she takes readily. The cool liquid sooths her throat although she can feel it sitting in her stomach like a lead weight.

When Emmett is seated again, his breakfast uncharacteristically forgotten, Bella tries to ignore the two sets of eyes on her person.

"Are you unwell, your Highness?" There is an uncertainty in Rosalie's voice that Bella has never heard. She doesn't like it.

"Just a stomach virus. I am sure I will be well with some rest."

"Let me go fetch the physician."

"That will not be necessary—"

"It was not a suggestion." Rosalie is up and walking out of the room before Bella can voice any further protest, and stopping her is really not feasible in her current state. She doesn't want the physician. It is just a stomach bug, it will go away by itself, Bella is sure of it.

A minute passes in absolute silence, she sound of the city filtering in through the window. Bella refuses to look at Emmett.

"Just say the word, sis." Emmett's voice is quiet and Bella finally has to look at him, his face scared but determined. "One word and I'll find a way. I'll get us out. We can run. There is still time. We'll be fine, the three of us."

Bella's hands start trembling so hard so has to fold them together in her lap, trying and failing to stop the shaking.

"Whatever are you talking about—"

"Oh cut the crap, Bells." Emmett is more agitated than Bella has seen in years, silently hissing the words to stop himself from raising his voice. He is up and fidgeting, arms crossed over his chest. "You know as well as I do that once that doctor comes in here it's game over. We still have time, screw the rest—"

Bella cannot contain her anger.

"Peace!" She nearly shouts the word, her lingering dizziness preventing her from getting up as she wants to. She needs to pace, needs to move. How is she having this conversation again? How dare the only person on this moon she can trust throw this back in her face?

"Peace means _everything_." She has gained control over her volume, squeezing her eyes shut as if whispering the words angrily into the darkness make them less real. "I will not be personally responsible for returning these two moons to total war. I will _not_ be responsible for every death onwards." Opening her eyes she catches shame on Emmett's face, making him appear younger by several years. She sometimes forgets that despite his size she is five years his senior. "My life is inconsequential. I did not give up everything, did not get this far to throw it all away because of fear."

"Your life is not inconsequential." The words hang in the air like soap bubbles, fragile and eerie, but Bella is saved from answering by the arrival of hurried steps down the corridor.

The first person to come inside is not the person Bella expects. The Prince looks almost wild, his hair sticking out all over his head like he has been attacked, his eyes wide as he searches for something. When his gaze lands on Bella he strides over to her, his hand going to Bella's forehead before intimately sliding his hand to the back of her neck. He is crouched in front of her, his face less than a foot away from hers, and suddenly her heart is beating out of her chest for a completely different reason. Considering Bella has never as much as kissed her husband, this sudden display is not welcome.

Something in her expression must have belayed as much to the Prince who blinks, clears his throat and stumbles back, getting to his feet as he rakes both hands through his hair repeatedly.

"The…physician should only be a minute." Rosalie's voice cuts through the awkward silence that follows. She must have followed the Prince into the room. "As you might have guessed, the Royal Highness the Prince insisted on checking on your health…personally."

The four of them wait in uncomfortable silence. Bella tries to take deep breaths through her mouth to stop the welling of nausea. The Prince hovers not far from her side, somehow ending up vibrating in Bella's direction, as if he cannot be too far away from her. Rosalie retakes her seat in the corner, watching the Prince with suspicion in her gaze whilst Emmett remains standing in the middle of the room, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Not a moment too soon, the computer announces the arrival of a Dr Cullen at the front door. The Prince gives verbal admittance and soon they are greeted by a slim but tall man, a doctor's bag in one hand and a kind smile on his face. Bella has never seen this man, does not recognise him. He is almost the archetypal Xepheryan; blond, pale, blue-eyed with pointed features, and Bella forces a smile on her face as she attempts to stand.

"Please, your Highness, no need to stand on my account." Feeling cornered, Bella has no option but to do as she is told and she leans back in her chair. The doctor places his bag on the floor not far from her, trying, Bella is sure, to reassure her, but calm is nowhere to be found.

"My name is Dr Carlisle Cullen, but I would like it if you call me Carlisle. I have been the royal physician for nearly a decade and do hope that at one point you will be as comfortable with me as the other members of the family. I hear you are not feeling well this morning, do you give me permission to examine you?"

Bella almost says no.

"Of course, doctor."

"Carlisle, please, your Highness." His smile is gentle, but he does not wait for a reply. "Perhaps I can ask some of the individuals in the room to step outside for a moment?"

"I am staying." The Prince speaks almost at the same time that Bella, almost frantic with sudden panic forces out:

"Emmett stays."

A small furrow appears between the doctor's brows, almost as if he is only now realising how strained the relationships are between the four in the room.

"Of course, your Highnesses. Miss Hale, if you would excuse us?"

Rosalie, back to her normal blank scowl, does nothing but briefly catch Bella's eye before she curtsies and steps out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

"Well then." The smile on the doctor's face takes on a forced air and with a measured step walks up to Bella, leaning down slightly to feel her tonsils.

"Any soreness?"

"No."

He goes on to check the insides of her ears, takes her temperature and pulse, and with some manoeuvring listens to her lungs. It is only at his point that Bella realises what she is wearing; the robe she usually wears to visit the Prince at night. Her mortification is short-lived because the doctor retrieves a small device from his bag which looks far too clinical for Bella's liking.

"If you would allow me, your Highness, this is a small device that goes on the pad of your finger. It takes a small drop of blood and analyses it for any inconsistencies. It should only feel like a pinprick."

The room goes unnervingly quiet as they wait for Bella to nod her consent. She glances at Emmett, his earlier words echoing in her ears.

Maybe all this excitement is for nothing. Maybe she is just nauseous because of something she ate. After all, today is the first day she has woken up feeling like this. Jumping to conclusions is silly. When she nods her assent, she has almost convinced herself that this is all a massive overreaction.

Bella barely registers the pain from the pinprick, so lost she is in her own thoughts. Seconds pass before the machine finally beeps, the doctor swallowing heavily before looking down at Bella with the same forced smile.

"Well, your Highness, I am happy to confirm that to my assessment you are perfectly healthy. Considering, the nausea is quite expected and should go away with time, although I would be happy to prescribe you something if it persists."

"Expected, considering…what?" The Prince's voice is cool, asking the question Bella's throat is too constricted to ask.

The doctor catches Bella's eye again, his smile oddly sympathetic.

"Congratulations are in order, your Highnesses. Princess, you are pregnant."

This time, Bella is not so lucky. She only has time to double over to the side before she is violently heaving.


	7. Chapter 7

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

7

News of Bella's pregnancy spreads through the palace like wildfire. Not even four hours pass before she has a communiqué from her father, requesting a conference at her earliest convenience.

Guards are doubled around Bella, Emmett deemed as not enough with the Princess in such a fragile state, and so Bella is introduced to Amun and Kebi, a brother and sister that barely speak two words in Bella's presence. Bella's entourage seems only to be growing, and had she energy to spare she would be mildly annoyed, considering the pregnancy was officially a non-event. Now she cannot leave their apartment without the Prince, his unsettling bodyguard James whose staring has only increased, Emmett, Rosalie, Amun _and_ Kebi, and despite always being surrounded by people, she feels more alone than ever. She feels less like a person and more like a caged bird; protected, watched, told to put on a show and sing when required, but ultimately unapproachable. Constrained. Even to Emmett she feels a certain distance, unable to put into words exactly why he gets on her nerves.

The Prince too acts oddly, still as distant as ever, but hovering in a way he never used to. They are cordial, just as they had agreed, but his interactions that have previously always been so controlled now appear to have an odd urgency. If she did not know any better she would have called it possessiveness. Maybe she is not too far off the mark. It is his child, after all. Is it possible to be possessive over a child but not the mother? The carrier? Bella needs to remind herself that births are so low here that every pregnancy carries with it an underlying panic, more so than it does on Mongrovia. She finds herself often replying to odd questions, small-talk that Bella knows the Prince already has the answers to, but she feels so detached she can never muster up the energy to engage back. Perhaps he is trying to connect with her somehow. Is that something she wants? She is unsure.

Despite there being no official statement, people would have to be dumb not to connect the dots. Not even Rosalie deters the court from suddenly needing to speak to Bella about anything and everything, the staring at her stomach almost indecent. As if a baby will claw its way out any second. It makes Bella sick.

The morning sickness only gets worse, and despite the odd green smoothies the good doctors gives her to drink retaining any food is difficult. She feels herself losing, not gaining, weight, and the continuous worried glances of Dr Cullen make her want to hide under the covers and never come back out.

Perhaps the biggest change is that her nightly visits with the Prince are no longer necessary. He has done his part. The first few nights, going to sleep is almost impossible. She keeps feeling like she's not done, like there's something she's forgotten. She blames her relative isolation, but she misses the physical contact. She never got any pleasure from their marital duty, never allowed herself any, but it was never unpleasant. After the initial awkwardness had lessened, there was something…grounding, about the Prince's hands on her body. A reminder that she is human. A reminder that her flesh can feel something, has the potential to feel something. His embraces were required of him and perhaps he was repulsed by her, but some greedy part of her cherished the connection. The human warmth. She does not allow herself to linger on the feeling, as if admitting it would be admitting to emotionally cheating on Jake. If there even is anything left to cheat on.

Bella spends an inordinate amount of time wondering how this all had turned out had she been the man, how she would feel about this child if it wasn't making her physically sick almost every hour of every day. She knows, logically, that this was the result they were after. This is why she went through with the marriage to Prince Edward, to ensure a royal heir of both moons, but a _royal heir_ is vastly different to _her own child_ , and the knowledge that she is carrying a child – hers and the Prince's child – makes her feel unsettled, like she doesn't fit in her own skin. A round peg in a square hole.

For the first time, she begins to wonder what life will be like for this child. Admittedly, the thought should have occurred to her earlier, but like many other things, it paled in comparison to the prospect of peace. What is one life in comparison with millions? Even if that child is her own. Peter the orphan, from both moons and from none, plays on her mind, and fear grips her heart like a vice. She cannot bear the thought of this faceless child always being a stranger, even more odd and _other_ than either her or Edward because he or she will always be part _wrong_. Even in the best possible future Bella can imagine, lingering prejudice will always be an issue. She has doomed a child to always having to be defensive, of justifying their heritage to everyone and no one.

Will Bella ever sit in a room and have to explain to her child that they were nothing more than a clause in a treaty? The thought makes Bella shiver.

Growing up, Bella never thought about being a mother. It was always an assumption, at some point, but motherhood was never a priority. Now, faced with it under such odd circumstances, she wonders what she has done. On very rare nights, when she is lying alone in her bedroom, her surroundings cold and finally quiet, she wonders if she would do herself and her child a favour by simply…not waking up. She pushes the thought away quickly, dismissing it as fatigue, but she cannot deny that it was there.

If she is meant to instantly love the baby growing inside of her, it has not happened. Any warm emotion she has is instantly and irrevocably altered by worry and crippling emotional paralysis.

The changes are exhausting, with Bella being visited by Dr Cullen at least every other day whilst still pretending that she is not pregnant. In the rare moments that she feels like she has energy, she wonders how Jake will react when he hears the news. Perhaps he already knows. Will he be disgusted by her? Before she left, he said he would always love her. She doesn't feel very worthy of love. Maybe he would agree.

She knows she cannot go on like this. Hardly recognises her own thought patterns. Is this what depression is like? Is that what she is? But knowing that she is unwell and getting better are two different things. She tells herself to get a grip, to not allow a bit of nausea to turn her into this passive wisp of a person, but every time she gets angry at herself, she finds an excuse to hold off. She waits for an excuse to engage, an excuse to no longer hide, an excuse to be the strong monarch she has been raised to be, but the excuse never comes. She hides in Rosalie's shadow, present in body but not spirit. Most of the time the knowledge that she is pregnant is pushed to the wayside, and she occasionally daydreams of what would have happened if she would have taken Emmett up on his offer. Would they be hidden away on some distant space-shuttle on the way to the farthest and remotest place on Mongrovia? But even these ruminations end in confusion, because the child she carries is still the Prince's. She is irrevocably tied to him. And both tied to the child she carries. The two royal families are forever joined, as long as the child lives.

And so she remembers why she is here, some semblance of strength found at the end of each reflection. Not enough to send her out of her depression, but enough for her to remain solid, stubborn, in place.

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a/n: A beautiful banner has been made for this story by Lizzie Paige and very gracefully organised by SunflowerFran - it's on my profile and I recommend all of you to go and have a look!


	8. Chapter 8

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

8

The day Bella finally reaches her second trimester she wakes up, lying on her side as she waits for the predictable bout of sickness. Usually, if she stays still enough she gets a few minutes of lying in bed. Very slowly, she reaches for the topical injector lying at her bedside, placing it at the soft skin just under her ear and ignoring the stinging pressure as the injector gives its dosage. Dr Cullen had to get inventive, trying to find a way to give Bella supplements and nutrition which she would not instantly reject.

When the world remains steady Bella clenches her teeth and unhooks the intravenous solution from her arm. Sleeping with it is the only way for her body to retain enough liquids. As soon as she stands the nausea hits her, but using predictable breathing patterns she has perfected over the past few weeks she manages to keep everything down. She knows hitting the second trimester doesn't magically tell her body that the morning sickness should stop, but hope is the mother of fools.

A slow shower later Bella dresses. Today she needs to pay more attention than usual because the announcement is being made. Dr Cullen wants to wait longer, but they are running out of time. A growing faction of Xepheryan aristocracy is days away from filing a petition of no confidence in the King, and what used to be two separate rebel groups on Mongrovia have just merged into one, announcing their joining with a terrorist attack that left hundreds injured and dozens dead in the southern mining district. Politically they need to do something. Anything. If they have to resort to diversion tactics, so be it.

Bella ends up wearing something very similar to what she wore at the peace signing. She is still not showing, but that might be for the best. She needs to wear a dress with long sleeves to cover how thin she has gotten, but it will do. She forgoes putting on jewellery for now and finally makes her way into her study, ignoring Kebi standing in the hallway.

Breakfast is no longer served in the study to prevent Bella from feeling ill, and so she is only greeted by Amun, hiding in the corner, and Emmett sitting hunched in one of the seats.

Wordlessly, Bella sits down at her desk, glancing over the notifications on her communicator. Her intention is to stay as occupied as possible until lunch so she doesn't have to think about all the implications of publicly announcing the pregnancy.

Half an hour later, Rosalie arrives, bringing with her a cold smoothie that Bella has come to recognise.

"Your Highness."

"Thank you, Rosalie."

There has been a definitive softening of Rosalie's countenance since Bella became pregnant. They still don't speak, but she no longer scowls at Bella. There is sympathy in her gaze, without being patronising, and Bella finds herself immensely grateful for the bizarre conducts of Xepherya that gave her Rosalie.

An hour before they usually leave for lunch, the computer announces the Prince at her study door. Confused but not alarmed by this sudden change, Bella calls for him to enter. He does so, thankfully, without his bodyguard. Lately James has only been accompanying him when they leave the apartment. Bella doesn't know why and doesn't bother asking.

"Wife, how are you feeling this morning?" The Prince walks calmly into the room, the door sliding closed behind him. He has a box in his hands, a large, flat metallic case, and he ends up standing by Bella's desk, his face carefully composed. He ignores everyone else in the room and Bella nods her acknowledgement.

"I am well, husband." Bella sees Rosalie watching the Prince with her normal narrowed gaze, and this time Bella has to agree with Rosalie's assessment. Something is changing. "Has lunch been brought forward?"

"No, it is still being held at the regular time." The Prince pauses, his Adam's apple bopping almost nervously as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

When he does not continue, Bella feels unease creeping up her spine, realising that everyone in the room is waiting for something to happen. With nothing left to do, as speaking seems out of turn somehow, Bella uses the time to observe the Prince, as she rarely allows herself to do lately. He is in fine clothing, him too having chosen more carefully today. Military boots and trousers, with a jacket with tails, the royal order sash across his breast.

Did his shoulders not used to be broader? Bella tries to compare the image in front of her with hazy images of his bare chest, but that line of thought is quickly shut down. His hair is sleeked down, contained, which feels odd, but the dark circles under his eyes are definitely new.

Almost a full minute passes, and yet there is no progress. Bella sees Emmett growing uncomfortable out of the corner of her eye, the beginnings of threat assessment clear in his eyes. Amun too has taken a small step away from the wall and Bella wonders who he would protect if it came down to choosing between her and the Prince.

Just as Bella is sure that Emmett is about to take action, the Prince smiles, a hesitant but oddly childlike expression on his face.

"I had these commissioned not long after we married, but with…the political situation it took some time to get everything finalised." The quiet click of the lid of unlatching is loud in the otherwise strained room, but when Bella sees what lies side by side she is almost overcome.

In beautiful contrast against red velvet lie two crowns. Similar, but individual. Made in the style of Xepherya, where the crown sits like a band over the forehead, they are both made from the oddly glowing Xepheryan metal that Bella is used to seeing around the palace. However, this is where Bella's expectations are stopped cold. Inlaid in intricate patterns, in varying sizes, are the two precious gems found on Mongrovia. Furthermore, on the inside of both crowns, just over the forehead, is a royal sigil, one Bella has not seen outside of history books; the sigil of the unified peoples of Olympia.

So caught by the circlets Bella does not notice that the Prince has crouched down in front of her, looking at her with an indecipherable look.

"It would mean a lot if we could wear these at the announcement." Reaching up, the Prince gently wipes away a stray tear from Bella's cheek with the pad of his thumb. She did not even realise she is crying. "To me, it would mean a lot."

It is, without doubt, the most intimate moment Bella has ever shared with the Prince. Most importantly, it is intimate in a way that leaves Bella feeling…settled. For the first time Bella sees someone in the Prince that views the peace the same way she does. Someone that is willing to risk everything, give up everything, because peace is the ultimate solution, the ultimate prize. It is as if between one blink and the next, the Prince transforms from an enemy to a partner.

How has she never seen it before?

Maybe for the first time since she met him, she sees him for the person he is, and not the station he holds in life. She has been so caught up in her own head that she never fully followed her own teachings; allowing her fear to cloud her judgement. He has never given her reason to mistrust him. The Prince as a separate entity from his family or his people – him personally. In that moment she remembers that the Prince is the only person who knows what it is like to marry someone of a race that is your sworn enemy.

Bella may still struggle to attribute any romantic feelings to the Prince, her husband, but romance means little to her nowadays. It is the budding respect she feels toward the man that will become the father of her child that allows her to smile back at him, partially lifting the fog of loneliness she has been living under.

* * *

a/n: Welcome to the turning point in the story. To all that stuck through the angsty bit, thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

9

"I suppose I should thank you."

Bella is interrupted out of her reading by Rosalie's voice, the blonde uncharacteristically shy. It is a rare moment when Bella and Rosalie are practically alone, walking down the circular paths with Emmett and Amun far enough behind and Kebi far enough ahead that they will not be overheard.

"Thank me?"

They are walking around the royal hanging gardens, Bella's holo-pad in her hands as she ignores the many guards stationed at the perimeters. The announcement of the pregnancy caused the predictable stir. People pretend they didn't know, decrees are mandated on both moons that the day of the birth will be a national holiday and a small diplomatic incident occurs as a group on Mongrovia petition to have the Princess spending her pregnancy on her own moon. Diplomats are suddenly given a new job of deciding where the child will be born, as to be born on either moon would show favouritism, and before Bella even looks pregnant there are whole committees trying to figure out if a birth in space is safe.

As Bella's morning sickness finally starts to abate she begins to wake up. She starts to accept Dr Cullen's advice with more vigour, even finding a berry which she requests to be added to her smoothies that tastes almost like a fruit that exists back on Mongrovia. Never did she think that something so small would give her joy, but after not being able to retain solid food for the past several weeks having some input into what she can eat is a surprising treat.

She cannot explain it, but she is less tired. Her first instinct is no longer to hide. Emmett notices, because suddenly, he is making jokes again. Silly jokes. Borderline inappropriate jokes. Rosalie scowls every time. And still, the blonde's eyes linger. If Bella decides to walk in such a way that Emmett and Rosalie end up walking next to one another…that is purely coincidental. And with Xepherya undergoing an odd stretch of clear, sunny weather, Bella takes to taking morning walks whilst going over her notifications.

"Was the royal Highness ever told why I was chosen as your particular lady in waiting?"

Thinking back, Bella hardly remembers ever giving it any thought. On many occasions she has been grateful for the cold woman's company, but wondering about the logistics never crossed her mind. Not with everything else going on.

Glancing at Rosalie out of the corner of her eye, Bella realises Rosalie's gaze is firmly on the path in front of them, her appearance distant.

"No, I was never told."

Several minutes pass and only when they have made another turn about the gardens does Rosalie speak again.

"I've always wanted children. I know that's…well, common, here. With the Sickness, but I always wanted to be a mother. The day I got my bleed and they realised I was one of the few lucky ones who was actually able to carry children…it was the happiest day of my life."

They walk past a guard station and Bella sees the Prince walking by with James in tow. Bella hadn't realised that the Prince normally walks about this part of the castle, but he must do. It seems quite often she sees him.

"With my father's position in parliament," Rosalie continues, "it was decided early on who I was going to marry. I was engaged to Royce from the day of my first bleed." Rosalie's voice is completely impassive, causal enough to be speaking of the weather, but as Bella turns her full attention back to her companion she realises that Rosalie's calm might not be all it appears.

"Royce was already working at the palace so I was sent to be part of Lady Alice's entourage. Under the protection of King Edward, it allowed Royce and I to be close to one another so we could build a relationship whilst still performing our duties to the crown." Rosalie pauses, twisting her hands in front of her. "I really did think I loved him. He was so attentive. So happy to…to find someone that could give him a child. Someone to pass on the bloodline."

Something in the way Rosalie is speaking makes Bella uncomfortable. Somehow she is sure this story does not have a happy ending.

"Four months after I arrived in the capital, and days before we were meant to be wed, Royce…well. He had too much to drink and called me to him. I was too young, too naïve to think anything of it. He was not alone."

Rosalie does not have to say anything else. The faraway look in her eye and the trembling of her lips is far too familiar. How many women has Bella spoken to in the shelters back home after Xepheryan raids with the very same expression?

There are no words that Bella can say and so instead she links her arm through Rosalie's, adding a stumble to her step as she leans on the other woman. It is as much as she dares do, feeling that Rosalie might reject any kind words. Thankfully, Rosalie steadies her and they continue walking. It is several minutes before she speaks again.

"I was found the next morning. Dr Cullen, actually. Anyone else…and I think I would be dead. The _incident_ was hushed up. Royce sent to the other side of the moon with some special donations to the crown, and my family were told not to make a fuss. They didn't want anything to do with me anyway, said I was no longer good for anything. Like I was ruined. Royce would have been an excellent connection to the family. Apparently, they wanted me to just…forget. Not accuse him. We were to be married, what did it matter? Well, it mattered to me. They wanted me silent. I refused."

Bella has to close her eyes to compose herself, fury at this backwards system burning in her belly. How can Xepherya still be dealing with this? On Mongrovia this would never be hushed up. Then Bella remembers some of the women in the poor houses, those that work for scraps that Bella often gave money to. Was she just being blind?

"The King was left in an interesting situation." Rosalie has regained some of her normal poise and seems more able to hold her tone as she continues. "The scandal happened whilst I was under his protection. He wanted to send me away somewhere, but Princess Alice didn't let him. She caused quite the fuss, actually. Funny for someone who spends her time talking about shoes. I needed a job, and I needed to have children. We cannot afford to let someone who is fertile simply…not. This was before the peace talks began. It was odd how it all came together. Then again, I suspect being told you are going to be a royal concubine is never straightforward."

This time Bella's stumble is earnest.

"Careful, your Highness." Rosalie catches Bella's step and they slow their pace slightly.

"Royal concubine?" Bella cannot wrap her head around it. Royal concubine for who? The King? Prince Edward?

"Yes. They were giving me my dream and instantly taking it away. I was to have children, with Prince Edward after his marriage, a highly influential man that would always have the means to take care of them, but the children would never be…mine. I would never be their mother. They would be _hers_. I could barely breathe for the jealousy."

Bella's mind is in disarray. The Prince was engaged before he married Bella?

"Forgive me, Lady Rosalie. Hers? Whose?"

Rosalie turns her head sharply, her eyes widened as she regards Bella. There is slight shock there, blue eyes flittering with uncertainty.

"I was…I was intended to be Lady Denali's surrogate. Lady Tanya Denali. They were engaged. Her and the Prince. But she has the Sickness. You…you have not heard of Lady Denali?"

No. Bella has not heard of Lady Denali. She does not know why the news affect her so, when she first arrived she was sure he too had someone he loved, just like she does Jake.

"I do not recognise the name." It is the only thing Bella can bring herself to say.

"No, I…I suppose you wouldn't. She was sent away from the palace just before you arrived, to not risk the peace talks. I…do believe they had intended for her exile to be temporary, however."

 _Committed, until we have an heir._ The Prince's words from that very first night come back to Bella like a slap in the face, and she realises that his situation is vastly different from Bella's. The Prince's love was coming back. So his askance for commitment was nothing more than ensuring that Bella would not risk getting impregnated by someone else whilst the Prince waited patiently for his fiancée to return. No skin off his nose.

"But with the peace agreement, I became the concubine instead." The words are out of Bella's mouth before she has fully grasped them, and Rosalie's grip tightens almost painfully on Bella's arm.

"You will be their _mother_." Rosalie has rallied, her voice stronger. "Your fate is not to be in the shadows."

Several minutes pass as the information settles. She can barely wrap her mind around it, but the pieces fit. The stares that follow Rosalie around. The whispers. The Prince's words. His reluctance when they were having sex. Bella could shut off, hide Jake in her mind, but the Prince had to perform. Was he thinking of his other fiancée when they were being intimate? Why does it matter?

"If it is at all in my power, Lady Rosalie, I will give you the chance to marry. To be a mother." This is what is important, Bella tells herself. The gossip about the fiancée should not matter.

The two women, for the first time understanding just how intertwined their fates are, share a loaded look.

"My friends call me Rose."

"Bella."

Not long after, the sun disappears behind the clouds and they walk back inside, the entourage of security with them as they get ready for lunch. No other words are spoken. Whatever Bella might feel about this new information will have to wait.

* * *

a/n: What, you thought I was going to make this a straight-forward boy meets girl love story? Pff, that's no fun!


	10. Chapter 10

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

10

Over the next few days, Rose's story plays on Bella's mind. The mysterious Tanya Denali, whose place Bella has taken in title, and Rose, whose place Bella has taken in body.

Lady Denali…Bella's hardened heart struggles to approach it. To feel deceived she would first have to care, when the most she has been feeling was a lessening of tension. The beginnings of respect and platonic warmth. So the verification that the Prince never intended to have a romantic relationship outside of the necessary leaves as much of an impression on Bella as learning that her expectations have been met. She struggles to muster up the jealousy. The Prince had a life before Bella, like Bella had a life prior to him. And although Bella trusts Rose, she doubts Rose knows much of the Prince's actual intentions. Bella – the wife, the Prince – the husband, their child – the heir, Tanya Denali – the mistress? And some faceless man for Bella on the side? It sounds like a bad melodrama. She is not ready to consider it. Physically shies away from the thoughts to avoid a lingering headache. Until the Prince says anything to her personally or she is forced to react, Bella simply has to assume it is not her problem. She has never been one for gossip and she has no intention of starting now. It is not the first time the court has blown something entirely out of proportion.

More than any unanswered questions about her husband, the thoughts that keep her up at night revolve around the women in this story. If Lady Denali had been able to have children, would King Edward ever suggest the marriage between the Prince and Bella? And if Rose hadn't been attacked would she still be here? Probably not. Three women, all tied to the Prince, and somehow none in control of their own destiny. Bella's own conscience rattles around in her head, being able to put faces to the Sickness, as they call it here. Those rumours that she had heard back on her own moon are becoming impossible to ignore. If, as she suspects, the Sickness is a Mongrovian-made virus then perhaps looking at the original research could yield a cure for the side effects. But if Mongrovia is responsible and it becomes public knowledge…it could lead to the annihilation of the peace agreement. It would matter little that the initial attack was three decades ago and those responsible are no longer alive.

Still, Bella slowly begins to realise that truth is the only way to move forward. The women on Xepherya are still sick. The pain is one that is ongoing. Her father will never agree to release any documents, and very few others have even heard of the rumours. The more time that passes, the more Bella realises that she has a duty, not just to the peace, but to the victims that are still suffering.

Perhaps it is selfish of her, but it occurs to her that if the Sickness had never happened, Prince Edward would most likely already have been married at the time of the peace talks and Bella would have been able to stay on Mongrovia. Then again, if Xepherya had not been weakened by the Sickness Mongrovia could well have lost the war decades ago.

As quietly as she can, Bella begins to make inquiries. She divides her questions between a handful of people, trying to limit any one person other than herself having the full picture, and hopes she is making the right decision. She is working for a world that her child can be proud to rule over.

Her child.

 _Your fate is not to be in the shadows. You will be their_ mother. Bella prays Rose is right. A fire begins to burn inside her, one that needs to prove it so. The alternative is too difficult to live with. A Queen who is unloved. A King with a lover who is never respected. Children that grow to be like Peter.

Bella is the future Queen of two moons. It is time she begins acting like one.

It is with this thought that Bella decides to approach the Prince. Diplomatically, her position is the strongest of any Mongrovian. All she has to do is use it. Personal considerations have to be put to the side.

"I would like to petition to sit in on parliamentary meetings." When Bella broaches the subject with the Prince, he looks positively alarmed.

They are walking back from lunch, their arms linked.

"I know you sit on the council with your father in an advisory position," Bella continues, realising that she might have to fight for her case. "As the future Queen of this moon, I would like to join you."

There is a slight narrowing of the Prince's eyes, but after another moment it passes.

"The Lords would not be happy with that arrangement."

By now they have reached their apartment, Kebi opening the door as they enter, James, thankfully, now stationed outside. As the entourage take rehearsed positions around the living room, the Prince pauses, gently letting go of Bella's arm as he begins to pace.

"All the Lords? Or a selected loud few?" Bella pushes. "I was under the impression your father still retained full executive power and only a supermajority vote in parliament could overturn his ruling, and as Xepherya is still under martial law that majority would have to be greater than ninety percent."

The Prince pauses, both eyebrows raised as he watches Bella from across the room. His face is familiar to her now, and she can tell something she just said really surprised him.

"You are correct. I was not aware you were knowledgeable about the parliamentary procedures of Xepherya."

Smiling, Bella sits down on a couch, the very same one she sat on that first night.

"Edward, are you telling me you _don't_ know the parliamentary procedures of Mongrovia?"

Emmett choses this moment to awkwardly conceal a laugh with a cough, and although the Prince shoots Emmett an exasperated look, he does not appear truly angry.

"Touché."

When he does not say anything else, Bella continues.

"They need to start trusting me at some point. I trusted the people of Xepherya by agreeing to come here. I have already shown a willingness to compromise. It is time the favour is returned. The sooner they stop seeing me as the enemy the better. And for that matter, I would like to take a more involved role on Mongrovia again. I will speak to my father and I would like to give you the opportunity to observe."

The Prince resumes his pacing, dragging a hand through his hair in a trademark sign of stress. He finally signals to Kebi, Amun and Rose to leave the room, and Bella does the same to Emmett. When they are alone the Prince sits down on the opposing couch. This seems to be where they end up when a discussion is necessary.

"The situation with the Lords is worse than you know." The Prince's voice has an edge to it, one Bella has not heard before. "My father is struggling to keep disagreements contained. Lord Aro and his two brothers are spier-heading a motion to end martial law so they can present a bill for constitutional reform. Specifically, they are wanting to severely constrict the powers of the monarchy. Not only would it restrict anything we might want to do in the future, but the dissolution of the monarchy would mean that any executive powers our child would have would be practically void. It would set the process back years."

Bella finds her hand subconsciously going to her stomach, and the Prince notices, his eyes zeroing in on the gesture.

"Do they have an issue with the monarchy itself? Or with your father specifically?" Although Bella knows there is unrest in the higher ranks, she never knew it was this acute.

"They are unhappy with my father. Martial law should have been suspended the moment the peace agreement was signed. Under normal circumstances parliament can oppose any decision that is not directly related to acts of war by a sixty-five percent majority. It is in everyone's best interest if we return to a normal state of procedure, but if we do so now…"

"They will motion for a constitutional amendment," Bella finishes.

"So you see our predicament."

They are silent, Bella eventually getting up to shift some of her nervous energy.

"What you need is an obvious and clear sign to the people that the monarchy is worthwhile, yes?"

"Well, of course, but that is hardly a simple task."

"How big is our personal budget?"

The Prince raises an eyebrow. "You have something in mind?"

"Just—how big is it? Enough to make a difference?" An idea was forming in Bella's mind, one influenced by the one Xepheryan she can call a true friend.

"Yes, I…I suppose so. At the moment it is being spent on personal affects. Clothing, spending, frivolity really."

Bella is quiet for several minutes, pacing as she thinks. What she is about to propose could prove to be politically self-serving if the truth about the Sickness is ever verified, but this is the only way she can think of making a true difference. She will deal with the political backlash if it ever becomes a problem.

"Bella, take me out of my misery here, what are you thinking?" The Prince is resting his elbows on his knees, leaning forward as he observes Bella intently. It is so rare that he uses her first name that it gives her a start.

"I want to set up a foundation. One that helps victims of the Sickness."

Immediately the Prince looks as if he's suppressing the need to roll his eyes.

"There are already countless foundations set up. My father spends twenty percent of the state budget on research and upkeep of the population."

"You misunderstand me." The longer she thinks about it, the more Bella knows this will work. "Not on research, not on how to prevent or find women that carry the Sickness. On actual _help_. A foundation set up for women that are unable to carry children, for women that are shunned by their families, for women that have to hide their condition. For women that are forced to carry children that they are unable to keep."

The prince's brow smoothens out as his eyes widen, his mouth pulling together into a frown. He looks almost afraid, the uncertainty uncanny. There is a visible tremor in his clasped hands.

"And…" Bella's voice is softer as she adopts the most imploring expression she can muster, "I would like to name the foundation after Lady Rosalie Hale."

The Prince swallows heavily, tearing his gaze away from Bella as he stares down at the floor. She is sure he has made the connection, is now aware that Bella knows part of a story which will most likely be very personal to him. But she promised herself she would start making a difference.

"You must know, I always objected to the treatment of Lady Hale." His voice is low, defensive almost. He is gearing up for an argument, but Bella is not interested.

"I believe you. You have shown me to be a man worthy of respect. Someone who believes in this peace and someone who is willing to make personal sacrifices to ensure the prosperity of his people." The Prince's head shoots up, catching Bella's eye and holding it. "We have a problem with parliament. I have a solution, one that will be well received among the common man. Women deserve more than they get on Xepherya. If we can win the approval of the women of this planet we will give parliament something else to concern themselves with. And in return, I will force my father to give the two of us – as a married royal couple – more power to create social change on Mongrovia. We can push for food provisions, lobby for technological advances that will bring food to the people. Prove me right. Prove to me that I was right in giving you my respect."

Several moments pass when the young couple stare at one another. No one willing to budge.

When the Prince nods, Bella nearly screams with joy.


	11. Chapter 11

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

 **IMPORTANT: I am uploading two chapters today, make sure to read chapter 11 before chapter 12**

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11

Routine changes once more.

Bella wakes, showers and then dresses. She now wears a simple circlet to signify her royal status, the second of which the Prince has given her. It was given to her two weeks after they decided to take a more proactive political role as a couple, a simple crown in the style of both moons to show restraint and austerity.

Clothing is beginning to fit her oddly and staring in the mirror the small bump on her stomach that was not there mere weeks ago makes Bella feel warm inside. She can still hide it easily under skirts, but she is sure that within a few more weeks it will become apparent no matter what she wears. She finds herself not minding.

After she is dressed, she no longer enters her study. Instead, she heads to their joint entrance parlour where food is served. The next few hours are spent with Bella and the Prince reading through their own work and occasionally forwarding communications between them. At least an hour is spent on logistics on how to manage the Rosalie Hale foundation and how it will be announced. Kebi and Amun relax minutely and can now be found sitting down eating breakfast and doing occasional perimeter checks; they seem to find it easier when both royals are in the same room. Emmett acts as if he isn't a bodyguard at all and amuses himself by trying to make Rose laugh, which she ignores every time. Bella was almost at the point where she needed to have a talk with her bodyguard and warn him that if he didn't appear more useful someone might get it into their head that he needed to return to Mongrovia. This was, as it turned out, not necessary. A minor incident where Bella almost tripped and James of all people caught her by the waist left Emmett throwing James up against a wall, officially telling him never to touch the Princess again.

The next day, the Prince decided that having Kebi and Amun as both of their guards would be enough and Bella never saw James again. Bella is more relieved than she can express by this development, despite never having been able to put her finger on why James made her uncomfortable.

The day Bella tells Rose about the foundation in her own name, Rose stands up and promptly walks out of the room without a word. She returns wordlessly with red-rimmed eyes, sitting down next to Bella and squeezes her hand once, hard. She then proceeds to give Bella the next item on her to-do list. No words are spoken.

Most days after lunch the Prince heads to Parliament to assist his father. On these occasions Bella will either set up conferences with ministers back home or cajole her own father into speaking with her and provide her with the latest news from Mongrovia. On days when Parliament is not in session Bella and the Prince will visit hospitals or poor-houses in the city – with increased security – but visit they will nonetheless.

By the time Bella and the Prince announce the Rosalie Hale foundation to the public the political situation on both moons has, for the first time in decades, calmed. Food rations are sent to Mongrovia on the regular and scientists are finally able to start their research into the atmosphere, and Lord Aro and his brothers lose all traction they have at calling for constitutional reform.

Maybe most significantly, Bella no longer cringes at calling her husband by his first name. Edward. When Bella finally changes into clothes that are positively maternal, Edward is more than just a political ally, he is a friend. Walking through the city or castle arm in arm no longer feels weird, no longer feels strained. When they have dinner with his family, they share looks, personal jokes that signify a comfort with one another that never existed before. Bella can even handle his younger sister, bearing through her non-stop talk about fashion with an understanding that there is more to Princess Alice than she can comfortably show in front of the King. This is proven by her donating what used to be a royal seamstress factory to the Rosalie Hale foundation to turn into a shelter, personally finding alternative employment for every member of staff.

Despite still being uncomfortable around the King, Bella can now return the smiles from the Queen. She feels like a Princess again.

She feels powerful.

Only in the very dead of night does she allow herself to think of the people she misses from back home. And as times goes on and her stomach grows, she finds it becomes easier, not to forget, but to accept that certain things will never be again.

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a/n: Chapter 12 is already uploaded so keep reading!


	12. Chapter 12

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

 **IMPORTANT: I am uploading two chapters today, make sure to read chapter 11 before chapter 12**

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12

"There is something you should know. And it better come from me than one of the court shrews."

Bella has to exert great control over her own facial features to school her expression into something acceptable. At Rose's comment, Amun scowls disapprovingly and Emmett looks far too interested, so Bella asks her two-man security team – as Kebi is with the Prince in Parliament – to give her and Rose five minutes alone. They are seated in Bella's study, the day overcast, but Bella finds herself not minding as much as she used to. Even the humidity has grown on her.

"Alright, now that the old biddies are gone, what is it?" Bella is in a surprisingly good mood, hence her attempts at teasing, but Rose does not so much as raise an eyebrow.

"Tanya Denali is coming back to the city. Specifically, back to court. She holds a position for the Queen so there is no escaping her."

Bella hears the words but doesn't quite take them in. Tanya Denali, Edward's old fiancée? The woman he supposedly loves?

Is she meant to feel jealous? Unsettled? Interested?

Unbidden, questions start appearing one after another in Bella's mind like brightly shooting stars.

Will Edward tell her he is resuming his old relationship? Or will he just assume Bella knows?

If he tries to hide that he is in a relationship with Tanya Denali should Bella feel betrayed because he broke his word? Or because as a friend he should be more forthcoming?

Does Bella actually _care_ if Edward is with Tanya Denali on the side? And if she does, is this because of any potential public embarrassment or because some part of her would want her husband to be faithful to her? A husband by virtue of politics only as they do not share a bed, do not touch with the exception of linking arms and have no intention of truly engaging in a romantic relationship?

Bella is quiet for too long because Rose shifts in her seat, leaning forward toward Bella.

"You do realise that the engagement was public knowledge? Everyone _knows_ that the Prince's ex-fiancée is coming back. Thousands of eyes watching all three of you for the smallest hint of a royal scandal. This will be the juiciest piece of court gossip since Lord Alistair got stuck in a cupboard running away from his mistress."

"Stuck in a cupboard?"

A few months ago, the scowl on Rose's face would have been enough to send Bella running out the room.

"Bella, _focus_. Are you even hearing me? The Prince's _fiancée_ is coming back. How are you not more affected by this?"

"Affected?" Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat Bella adjusts in her seat. "Why would I be affected? It doesn't concern me."

Rose's trademark raised eyebrow is in full force as she leans back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Really? That's what you're going with?"

"Going with? Whatever are you talking about?"

Bella finds it hard to hold eye contact and turns back to the communications on her holo-pad, watching but not reading. She is very aware of the blonde's stare, her pursed lips almost making an impression on Bella from afar.

"Sweetie, you're gonna have to do way better than that." Rose's tone of voice is positively acerbic. "If that's how you're planning on responding when the court starts asking you about her return you will get eaten _alive_. Forget all the work you've done on the foundation or that you've spent the last few months the picture of poise. If _that_ is your lame-ass response to Tanya Denali coming back there is no stopping the rumours."

Bella wants to bite back with an equally harsh comment but sadly realises that if she does she's only proving Rose right.

"I am Heir Apparent to Mongrovia and Princess of Xepherya. Crown Prince Edward is my husband. We are expecting a child that is legally mandated to be the rightful ruler of two moons. Why should I be affected by the return of an ex-lover of my husband?"

Bella is geared up for a fight, so when Rose rolls her eyes and relaxes her position Bella is more than a little confused.

"Fine, Bella. Deny it all you want. If that's how you want to play it, be my guest. Just don't come crying to me when it all goes tits up."

"Play it? Deny what? Rose!"

Bella is deprived of an answer as Rose stands and walks out of the room, leaving a very confused Emmett coming back inside.

"What was all that about?"

"Who knows." Bella tries to play it off, especially in front of Emmett, but she finds herself distracted for the rest of the day. During dinner, or any time when her and Edward have a semblance of privacy Bella almost expects him to start talking about Lady Denali, to confirm something for himself, but no such conversation is ever had. Their topics remain firmly in the realm of politics with no sign of anything personal being brought to light.

Late that night, lying on her side and cradling her growing stomach she looks at her mother's painting and admits that the whole thing makes her the tiniest bit agitated. Agitated because gossip of this kind takes away from the important issues her and Edward are trying to raise. Agitated because it belittles her station and her sacrifices.

Furthermore, she comes to the conclusion that ultimately her unease stems from envy; of Edward, not of Tanya Denali. Her and Edward were meant to be in this together, both having to give up the same amount to gain peace. And now, he could have it both ways, whereas Bella had no option of reconnecting with Jake.

Yes, these are the only reasons why Bella cannot sleep.

Anything else would be highly illogical and simply untrue.

With an easier heart, Bella turns over and goes to sleep, comforted by her own logic.

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a/n: Tomorrow's chapter is not only over 4000 words long, but it also deals with the whole Tanya situation - something I know a lot of you are eager to figure out. So if we can all remember that Bella has very little verified information on the Prince's previous arrangement with Tanya Denali and not burn the poor man at the stake just yet, we will all sleep better!


	13. Chapter 13

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

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13

Rose's prediction does in fact come true. Over the next few days whispers seem to increase and really brave members of the court even dare approach Bella in the few seconds Edward is not at her side. Feigning ignorance seems too dangerous, so Bella simply acknowledges the information by saying that the Queen is thrilled to have her full staff back. This seems to work for a while, but when contacts back on Mongrovia are suddenly sending her news clips of journalists saying the peace agreement is days from falling apart because Edward is leaving Bella for Tanya Denali, things have officially gone too far. Bella has to live through a mortifying conversation with her own father where he tries to accuse Bella whilst not doing so openly of some bizarre love triangle that endangers everything they have worked for.

By the time Tanya Denali is confirmed back in the city Bella is so sick of the name she can hardly keep the scowl off her face. Bella's foul mood prevents her from really taking stock of Edward's thoughts on the matter, and she finds herself unable to tell if he is silent because of Bella's behaviour or because of something else. It matters little for the end result, which is the media having a field day, Lord Aro grasping the opportunity to paint Bella and Edward as young, immature fools, and the rebels on Mongrovia starting a campaign where Bella is somehow being mistreated and held against her will; their beloved Princess disrespected and outraged.

On some level, Bella knows that they have to make a statement. A joint statement, her and Edward, to curb the rumours and reiterate that the peace agreement still holds strong and that despite what anyone might hear there is no kidnapping, no mistreatment, no offense – no affair. Sadly, this would involve dealing with the problem and actually discussing it with Edward, which Bella is stubbornly refusing. The whole situation makes her feel like a child again, petulant and angry that a problem that was not hers in the making – a scandal she has nothing to do with – is so severely affecting her reputation _and_ the peace agreement.

She tries, very hard, to not make any judgments about Tanya Denali. She has never met her. Knows nothing of her that she has not heard second-hand, and really, should a person be faulted for at one point having been engaged to the Prince? Unfortunately, logic fails her. She doesn't want to be the mature one. Doesn't want to be the one that has to deal with this. It is _his_ problem. _He_ can deal with it.

With the drama, Bella is more than happy to return to the apartment to hide after lunch as Edward heads to parliament. Bella is now nearing her third trimester and it is starting to affect her body. She feels more cumbersome, less balanced, and physical tiredness is different from that of her early nausea. Therefore, the armchair in her study has become a great place to hide and with only Emmett and Rose in the room, and Kebi stationed outside in the hall, Bella feels almost alone. Even Emmett has taken the hint and lets Bella work quietly.

Her tranquil is interrupted by the computer.

"Princess Isabella speaking." Bella is barely taking her eyes off the document she is reading. It is the latest findings from the scientists with regards to Mongrovia's atmosphere and the scientific jargon is confusing.

 _"_ _Visitor at the front door without previously agreed security clearance. Lady Tanya Denali, confirmed, without companions, here to see the honourable Prince Edward."_

It takes a few seconds for the words to register, but when they do Bella physically looks up as if the lady in question will materialise out of thin air.

Tanya Denali? _Here_?

 _"_ _Visitor claims it is urgent."_

The computerised voice is loud in the resulting quiet. She must not know Edward is not here, that is the only option.

Then what, Bella asks the computer to tell her to come back at a later time? But she doesn't want her to come back at a later time. She doesn't want to deal with her _at all_.

"You have to let her in, see what she wants." Rose is on her feet, towering over Bella.

"What? Why? The Prince isn't here."

"And leave her outside? She's not known for taking no for an answer." Rose is in front of Bella, taking her hand and trying to drag her to her feet. "What if someone sees her standing outside? Could you imagine what they can spin from that? The Prince isn't due back for _hours_."

To add to Bella's growing alarm, Kebi has stuck her head inside, glancing at Bella in question.

"Your Highness? Would you like me to send the lady away?"

As a last resort, Bella looks at Emmett who instantly throws his hands in the air and shakes his head.

"Don't look at me."

In the moment, Bella has to admit that no matter how ridiculous it is, she is terrified of coming face to face with Tanya Denali.

 _"_ _Lady Tanya Denali is still requesting an audience. Please advise on course of action."_

Internally swearing in every language she knows, Bella finally nods.

"Kebi, if you could please show Lady Denali into the parlour. I will be out in a moment. Computer, grant security access to the main doors for a one-time pass to Lady Tanya Denali to be used with Kebi's immediate activation."

As Kebi leaves to go to the front door Bella closes her eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. It's absurd, this reaction, but after having successfully avoided all images of Tanya Denali, she feels wildly unprepared. She doesn't want to have to stand in the same room as her and be forced to make that mental comparison. Doesn't want to see who Edward would have married if he had the choice.

"What is she _doing_ here?" The words are hissed, anger seemingly the only emotion Bella can settle on. "Does she not see what this looks like? Like they're having an affair in our _home_? After everything and she can't even show some tact?"

As she opens her eyes again, Rose has moved behind her, fixing strands of hair around her crown. Her voice is as placating as if she was speaking to a rabid animal.

"Greet her, offer her something to drink, find out what she wants, and then send her on her way. And as soon as possible send a communiqué to the Prince notifying him that Lady Denali was here. Is here."

"Don't leave me alone with her." It's a stupid thing to ask, but the words are out before Bella can stop them. Of course she won't be left alone, she has a dedicated security team that shadow her every move.

"Of course we won't. She might be an assassin sent here to kill you." Emmett is looking far too pleased with himself, but scowling at Emmett gives Bella the levity she needs to find composure. After a few seconds she knows she is just delaying the inevitable and motions for the three of them to leave the room.

Emmett walking in front and Rose behind, the walk down the corridor is far too short in Bella's opinion. Before she is anywhere near ready Emmett is giving Bella his hand to help her sit and Rose has sat down in the corner. Despite Emmett's hulking shape to Bella's side, there is nothing stopping Bella from looking at the woman who has been at the forefront of her mind for the past several weeks. Lady Tanya Denali.

Tanya Denali stands not far from the door, Kebi hovering at her elbow, impeccably dressed in a long slim dress, hugging her curves. The material is a deep green, covering and yet somehow provocative. She wears a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a deep shimmering silver, her tall figure instantly making Bella feel self-conscious of her rounding body.

Bella knows that Tanya Denali is known for being beautiful, but the woman standing before her is nothing short of breath-taking. With clear emerald eyes and perfectly sculped strawberry blonde hair, her lips come together in a round bud, her cheeks a rosy red in contrast to her shimmering skin.

She is Bella's opposite in almost every way.

And yet, there is something off about this woman. This is the woman that has arrived without invitation, almost insisted on entering. So Bella would assume her countenance to be argumentative, proud, stubborn perhaps. The woman standing in her parlour is nothing of the sort. Her shoulders are hunched, her arms wrapped around her middle in a defensive posture, and Tanya Denali's eyes are firmly fixated on Bella's midriff. On Bella's pregnant stomach.

The fight leaves Bella almost instantly. Rose said Tanya Denali has the Sickness. She can't have children.

"Your Royal Highness, let me introduce Lady Tanya Denali." Kebi is the only one that seems to remember protocol, and Lady Denali courtesies with the look of only having done so purely by reflex.

"Your Highness." Lady Denali's voice is high and unsure, a tremor shooting through her body as she forces her arms down at her sides. In that moment, Bella feels nothing but sympathy.

"Please, have a seat. Can I offer you something to drink?" The words sound robotic to Bella's own ears, but at least she said something.

" _Ambrís_. Please, your Highness." Lady Denali stumbles over to the opposing couch, Edward's seat, and Rose gets up and pours Tanya the very same liquid that Edward had on their wedding night.

Within seconds of the glass touching Lady Denali's hand she places it at her lips and downs the entirety of it, grimacing as she swallows. Her hands tremble around the empty crystal.

Bella shares a look with Rose who is slowly returning to her seat, her face impassive yet intent on Lady Denali.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Denali? If you are looking for the Prince he is out, at present."

"Yes, I—I realise that. Forgive the intrusion. And the unannounced—visit," Lady Denali stutters, forcing a smile on her face but unable to look Bella in the face for long before once again letting her eyes rest on Bella's stomach. "The pregnancy—looks good on you. Suits you."

The air is thick with everything not said, and with the growing suspicion that Lady Denali isn't exactly sober Bella knows that if she does not move things along they will get nowhere.

Still, how does one reply to that? What does she say? Knowing everything she does?

"Thank you." Bella pauses, shifting in her seat. "If it is the Prince you are looking for, like I said, he is not…here. You are welcome to leave a message or arrange an alternative time to meet him."

"I want to wait for him." The words are rushed, Lady Denali's eyes wide as she stares at Bella. "Please. I insist. I won't be any trouble, or bother anyone. If you just let me—wait here. For him."

Bella finds it difficult to muster any anger toward the desperate woman in front of her. Sadly, she finds herself pitying her. Not a kind emotion, but one she cannot help.

Without looking at Rose, who Bella knows will have a very obvious opinion on the current situation plastered all over her face, Bella reaches for the tablet next to the couch, sending a quick message to Edward.

 _Urgent but not security related_ , she labels it. In as few words as possible, Bella types that Lady Denali is currently in their parlour, waiting for him. She would give details, but she honestly has no idea what to say.

"Parliament is in session, but he should not be long." Bella says this without actually having any reassurance of the fact, but she prays she is right. She feels a bit like a secretary. It is an odd feeling.

"Thank you. Your Highness."

Silence settles over the room, Kebi relaxing and going to stand by the front door. Emmett remains at Bella's elbow, and although no one in their right mind would think that Lady Denali is here to harm Bella, there is no denying that the lady in question does not appear fully stable.

"I trust your journey from the south was satisfactory?" Bella is grasping for anything to say, anything to get past this horrible awkwardness.

"Yes, thank you. It was fine. Nothing like some fresh air, you know?" Lady Denali tries to laugh, but it falls flat.

And with that, both women lapse into silence again.

The minutes stretch, and despite Bella trying to come up with something, anything, to say, there seems to be no topic that is safe. Even the mentioning of the foundation would be too close to home. Then again, Lady Denali is back to staring into her empty glass, fingers still shaking as she sits huddled. Bella doubts she would even hear whatever Bella decided to talk about.

It is with great relief that Bella finally hears the front door unlocking twenty agonising minutes later.

Edward walks in, Amun hot on his heels, looking rough. His hair is doing an impression of a haystack and his normally pale face is flushed with agitation. He stops at the mouth of the two couches, his gaze darting between Bella and Lady Denali.

If possible, Lady Denali seems to shrink even more than before, tears appearing in the corners of her almond-shaped eyes as she looks up at her ex-fiancé.

"Wife," Edward greets Bella, still not taking his eyes off Lady Denali.

"Husband. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Forgive the delay, Father needed my immediate attention."

"Of course."

Internally, Bella wonders for whom they're observing court etiquette. Tanya Denali certainly has no need for it, and everyone else in the room is well familiar with one another. No matter Bella's confused feelings on the specifics of the relationship between Tanya Denali and Edward, there is no denying that they need to talk. And Bella is more than happy to not be here for that particular conversation.

"If there is nothing else, I will retire to my study, let you have your audience." Bella makes to get up, but Edward's hand on her shoulder stops her.

"Don't be silly, there is no need to move on our account." His voice is gentler, the voice which Bella has come to recognise as one he only uses with her. It is the voice of the man whose child she is carrying.

On the other side, to anyone bothering to look, Tanya Denali's heart is breaking right there on the couch. Maybe she assumes there is more between Edward and Bella than there is.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Bella nods.

"Lady Denali, please if you would follow me to my study?" Without waiting for a reply Edward turns on his heel and walks down his corridor, disappearing from view.

Eyes planted on the floor, Lady Denali stands and slowly follows, her heels clicking on the stone floors. As soon as Bella hears a door closing shut, she exhales, slouching down on the couch.

"Yikes, that was bloody painful."

For once, Bella has to agree with Emmett's assessment. In fact, she is rather determined to spend the next four hours until they have to leave for dinner in her bedroom, not speaking to anyone, but as per usual, Rose disagrees.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" After the half hour she's had, Bella is more than a little hesitant for Rose's meaning. Especially when she is looking at her with that fierce expression.

"Well are you going or am I going?"

"Going?"

"To listen! Don't tell me you're gonna let your husband have a conversation with that skank alone when she's drunk!"

"Of course I am, it's none of my business—Rose, _wait_!" Rosalie is already halfway to the Prince's corridor and Bella has to scramble up from her couch, shrugging off Emmett's help. "Rosalie!"

She stops, turning to look at Bella with her arms crossed over her chest.

Bella knows that expression. There is no arguing with her. And if Rose goes, she will tell Bella what she heard whether Bella wants to hear it or not. In the interest of limiting the people that know about this very private conversation, Bella rationalises that she has little choice but to go herself. She staunchly disregards the thoughts that tell her she is very much curious for all the wrong reasons, and finally waddles down the hall, ignoring the looks from the three-man security team.

This is wrong, she thinks. She has no right to spy, this is such a personal matter. What if she had the opportunity to speak to Jake? She wouldn't want Edward eavesdropping like a child. Even knowing it is wrong, she still finds herself at the door to the Prince's study, a room Bella has never entered. The door is smooth and cold, the same make as most other doors in the apartment, yet Bella is convinced this one is somehow different.

Hating herself as she does it, Bella leans toward the door, her ear on the polished surface.

Their voices are clear as bells, so simple to hear it's almost laughable.

"What did you expect me to do? You don't reply to any of my communiqués, you refuse to take my calls, even Alice was trying to stop me from seeing you." There is more force in Lady Denali's voice, but the despair lingers.

"I expect you to _wait_." Bella has never heard such anger in Edward's tone. He barely sounds like himself. Bella isn't sure she likes it. "Do you know what we had to deal with? Everything is falling apart, everything we've worked for. Can't you see that laying low would have been the best option for now? I wasn't ignoring you out of _spite_."

A few seconds of silence pass, and when Lady Denali speaks her voice is softer.

"Princess Isabella is beautiful."

"Tanya…"

"It's true. Don't deny it. She's more beautiful in person. She almost looks Xepheryan, but with dark hair. You will have a beautiful child. Beautiful children."

Guilt stabs at Bella's heart and although a voice inside her head is screaming at her to walk away, she cannot. She is practically glued to the door.

"The child will be of both moons." Edward's voice has gentled, most of the anger gone. "We are working to fulfil the peace treaty."

"But it's fulfilled no?" Tanya is pleading, her tone insistent. "You married her. She is pregnant. We have _peace_. This is it, you said so when this all began. You're done, free to be who you want to be again, free to be with _whom_ you want to be again."

"There is still a lot of uncertainty, Tan." Edward sounds tired, exasperated. "My father and I are fighting every day to prevent an uprising and Bella's people are still unsure about our commitment—"

" _Bella_? She's Bella now?"

"The Princess. My wife. What does it matter what I call her?"

"What matters is that she's giving you an heir! I thought you said that would be it! I could come back and we could be together again!"

"Keep your voice down!" They are silent, the whole world stilling. "I know what I said, Tan, but there's been complications. Things haven't…things aren't like I expected them to be. I have made commitments, promises I intend to keep."

"And what about your promises to me?"

The hush stretches. Even Bella knows that Edward is quiet for too long.

"She is my wife. That might not mean much to a lot of people, but it means something to me." Bella has to strain to hear the words, but when she does she almost loses her grip on the door. He is almost implying…no. It cannot be.

"I was going to be your wife. Remember? You asked me? Proposed to me?" She is crying. Bella can hear it in her voice. She should've never started spying, but it is too late now.

"Tan, you know I do."

"So that's it? After you asked me to wait for you, you're just going to throw it all away because she can give you a child and I can't?"

"It's not about that, you know it's not. It's never been about that—"

"It was to your father! To your mother, even! I am damaged goods. Not _whole_. I see the way you touch her. Have seen the videos, holding her hand, helping her around. The way you watch her. Your wife and the mother of your child…the same person. It's all you ever wanted."

"It was never like that and you _know_ it." Edward is back to fury, no longer contained in any shape. "When have I ever given you the impression that I care for you less just because you couldn't have children? I was willing to give up everything for you! My family's approval, a true royal heir to the throne, I _loved you_ , damn it. How can you throw this back in my face? After everything?"

Seconds pass. Bella can practically hear Emmett in the parlour with how much she strains her hearing.

"You're in love with her. Aren't you?" Lady Denali's voice is so quiet Bella can barely hear it over the pounding of her own heart.

Edward does not reply.

"You promised me." Bella's ear is fully pressed against the door, all sense of propriety gone. Tanya Denali spits the words, rage lacing every syllable. "You promised me it wouldn't change anything. Told me that even if I couldn't be your wife, you still meant everything you said when you proposed. Promised me you would always love me. _Promised_ me we'd find a way to be together. And like the idiot I am I believed you, trusted you. Trusted that despite stooping to the life of a mistress for the rest of my days it would be worth it because I would have _you_. Maybe not in public, but I would know where your heart truly lies." She pauses, a sob breaking through that tears at Bella's insides. "How _dare_ you. You're nothing more than a lying snake, you know that? You don't deserve me. You don't deserve the Princess, and you most certainly don't deserve that child she is growing for you, like the good little whore she is."

The sudden clicking of shoes advancing on the door in a hurry sends Bella stumbling backwards, flattening herself against the opposing wall.

There is no hiding. Tanya Denali will come out of that room and know that Bella has heard every word.

Clenching her eyes shut as if to protect herself from physical blow, Bella waits, but there is no further sound.

When Bella dares open her eyes, she realises that the door is not fully open, only ajar. Bella can see Tanya Denali's clenched hand on the handle, but Bella is still hidden.

Bella must have missed a small part of the conversation, because when Tanya's voice floats across the corridor it is almost defeated sounding.

"I could never compete, could I? Who am I compared the humanitarian – the beloved Princess that gave up everything for her people?"

"It's not a competition, Tan." Edward sounds so pitiful it's almost painful to listen to.

"Because there was never any contest. Was there?"

Once again, Edward remains silent.

"Just tell me one thing." Lady Denali chokes out a laugh, sniffling as she takes breath. "Does she love you back? Have you managed to touch the Ice-Princess' heart?"

It is too much. Too much to bear.

As quietly as Bella can, she makes sure to walk on the carpet in her flat shoes as she stumbles back into the parlour. Four sets of eyes are on her but Bella shakes her head, unable to speak.

 _You're in love with her, aren't you?_

 _Does she love you back?_

 _You promised me._

 _…_ _like the good little whore she is._

 _Your wife and the mother of your child…the same person._

 _She is my wife._

Bella feels dizzy. She has to sit down. Immediately.

In a daze, Bella retakes her earlier vacated seat, grabbing a holo-pad just to have something to do with her hands. She does not notice Rosalie until she is sitting next to her, one hand squeezing her forearm.

"I'll kill him, Bells." Emmett crouches down in front of her, taking Bella's hands in his big ones. "Like the time I punched Jacob in the face because he made you cry? Prince or no Prince, I'll break his nose."

Shaking her head, Bella tries desperately to regain her composure. They don't understand. They must think—they must think—

"No. Don't do anything. Don't say anything. Don't do—anything."

Emmett does not look convinced, but stands up and takes his place behind Bella's seat. Rose remains with her hand on Bella's forearm.

Parts of the conversation keep rolling about in Bella's head. Snap-shots that she is powerless to stop. This wasn't part of the plan. None of this was ever part of the plan.

Footsteps coming down the hall startle Bella to the point of nearly jumping out of her skin, but she is too much of a coward to look up.

"Lady Denali is going to take a few minutes to gather herself in my study. She will depart shortly."

Is this where Bella replies? She is unsure.

"Bella?"

At her name, Bella's head swivels up to stare at Edward, trepidation painted across his features. He looks older. More worn than he ever did previously.

"Of course!" Bella's voice is too loud. She needs to get away. "Actually, I'm going to go—go lie down for a bit. Until dinner. I'm quite tired." With Rosalie's help, Bella stands up. And then, as if her mouth gets a life of its own, she can't stop talking. "I trust the parliamentary session was without incident? Did you discuss the budget as you had intended?"

Edward's brow furrows, his mouth pulling together into a frown.

"Yes, the budget was discussed. They, well, it seemed, before I left, that they are going to agree to divert military funds to rehabilitation efforts."

"Excellent. Good. Great news." Why is she still talking? "Anyway. I will see you, in…well." Ending awkwardly, Bella is sure she looks like a deer caught in the headlights as she turns without a reply and walks down her own corridor, practically falling through her bedroom doors. As soon as they are locked behind her, Bella collapses with her back against the door, the view of her mother's painting enough to send her freefalling.

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a/n: I am not trying to create perfect characters. My aim is simply to create characters that make sense. They are flawed, sometimes make mistakes, and most importantly, my aim is to make them human.


	14. Chapter 14

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

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 **IMPORTANT - today is another two-chapter day, make sure to read chapter 14 before 15!**

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14

Sometimes, all it takes for an overlooked fact to become blaringly obvious is for it to be pointed out once. Bella learns this lesson the hard way.

No longer is a look just a look, or a helping hand up from a chair just a gesture. Everything, every minute little thing both past and present suddenly gains another meaning. A deeper meaning. It is simultaneously liberating and constricting. Bella hardly knows what to do with herself.

That Tanya was the one speaking the words does little to calm Bella's growing panic. If Edward was about to deny them to anyone, surely it would have been to the woman he supposedly loved. Would he lie and let Tanya believe what she wanted in an attempt just to be rid of her? Maybe staying silent was easier. But that seems unnecessarily cruel. Letting her draw conclusions that are so painful to believe…Bella cannot think so lowly of Edward.

Undoubtedly, Edward could have dealt with the situation better. Then again, so could've Bella. Absolutely. Neither she nor Edward are without fault in the complicated mess they have found themselves in. Bella should have spoken to Edward earlier, Edward should have spoken to Tanya Denali earlier, Tanya Denali should not have gotten drunk and came knocking on their door. And yet, Bella cannot blame Edward. Neither can she blame Tanya. Maybe it was unfair for Edward to ask for Tanya to be his mistress. Maybe it was unfair to Bella that Tanya agreed. Bella doubts any of this was planned. _The best laid plans…_

Not two days after the confrontation, Tanya Denali is reported leaving the city. Returning to the duties she has been fulfilling on the other side of the moon for the past few months. Bella and Edward, without discussing the reason _why_ , release a short written statement detailing the latest updates on the Rosalie Hale foundation with Bella adding a few lines from her alone, mentioning how much she has gained from being on Xepherya and how the support of her husband has been monumental. After a few last-minute jabs, it is enough to calm the media on Xepherya. Ministers grumble, but as Bella predicted, shining a light on the mistreatment of women in the social sphere has led to independent movements that begin to petition parliament and the King for equal rights. The parliament is kept busy.

On Mongrovia, the solution is not so simple. Work on the atmosphere is slower than everyone had expected and growing dissent means that with every conference with her father, Bella is more and more worried. Raids are increasing, attacks on innocent people in the name of attaining weapons are growing. More worryingly, the rebel group that calls itself _Dignity_ has occupied a stretch of land, a small airbase which normally only holds the capability to do intra-moon travel. Equipment for inter-moon travel shouldn't be there, but it is not outside the realm of possibility that the rebels will be able to upgrade what they have.

With all the trouble on her home-moon Bella should not have time to focus on anything else. She should be petitioning for people on Mongrovia to trust the peace they have implemented, to give science the time it needs to aid with crops. Most importantly, she should be fighting tooth and nail to visit Mongrovia, but when she brings this up with Dr Cullen it is not long before Edward goes on a tirade, begging her not to go.

She should have told him she had to. Told him it was the most reliable way to calm the situation. And what does she do? She acquiesces. One touch of Edward's hand on her stomach and she calms like a household dog given a good ear-scratch. The level of power Edward suddenly has over Bella is disconcerting. Bella is the first to admit that she respects Edward. She will even go so far as to say that she cares about him, as a friend and as the father of her child. But _love_? Bella has only ever loved three men in her life, two of which are family.

She has never fully considered the possibility of being _in love_ with her husband. That was something she gave up when she came to Xepherya. Something she is sure she would never have. And now that the thought is there, she starts noticing things. Odd things. Like the way Edward's forearm flexes when he helps her to a seat. Or the way his military uniform stretches when he pulls a hand through his hair. And how his jaw tightens when the King says something he does not agree with.

The way his eyes crinkle when he thinks Bella says something amusing.

It is as if overnight he is no longer cold to her, but calm. Not the dizzying heat of Jake, but a safe port in any storm. She realises with alarm that she _trusts_ Edward. Trusts that he wants the best not just for their child and for the people of both Mongrovia and Xepherya, but the best for Bella as well. In the world she lives in, trust is a very dangerous thing, one she realises too late she has bestowed on Edward without conscious awareness.

Having feelings for Edward? No, it would be bad enough if he had developed feelings for Bella, reciprocating any existent or non-existent feelings would be a bad idea. They agreed. They said to be cordial, that liking each other _too_ much could also cause problems. No romance, Bella had requested. And after all, she is in love with _Jake_. She can't have feelings for Edward at the same time. It shouldn't matter that she has not seen or had any contact with Jake for over six months. Not that they had agreed to stay celibate. Bella knows that at one point, Jake will most likely…what, find another woman? He said he could never love another. But wasn't that what Edward had told Tanya?

The whole thing makes Bella's head hurt and the only pain relievers Dr Cullen can give her do absolutely nothing for it. So like the grown woman she is, she decides to ignore it all together. She was never meant to hear the conversation in the first place, and Edward has not spoken of Tanya Denali since that day. Bella tells herself all her odd thoughts are just that, odd, and the result of an overactive, tired mind. She is not at all more aware of Edward. Not at all more aware of the way he looks, speaks or acts. Linking arms in public is _just_ for show. Their morning meetings are _purely_ practical.

Even Bella knows she's lying to herself. She does not truly believe herself to be indifferent to Edward. But fear prevents her from doing something about it. There is so much at stake that to risk the productive relationship between them seems foolish. If Edward indeed has feelings for Bella…until she knows what she truly feels, she cannot say anything. Cannot give him even more uncertainty when she is sure her every action up until this point has been a rejection of his kindness.

No, before she does anything she needs to be sure. And so, the first time she feels the baby kick, her instinctual and first reaction is to tell Edward. So she compromises and tells Dr Cullen.

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a/n: read on to chapter 15!


	15. Chapter 15

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

 **IMPORTANT - today is another two-chapter day, make sure to read chapter 14 before 15!**

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15

Bella has spent the last month positively distracted. Between working on the foundation, becoming decidedly too big for her own comfort and the baby suddenly becoming really active – not to mention all the thoughts Bella tries her hardest to ignore – she has completely forgotten that she has more important things to worry about. As they return from lunch, an encrypted communiqué flashes on Bella's holo-pad. Assuming it to be something from her father Bella decides to read it whilst lying down and so excuses herself from the rest of the group as she heads to her bedroom.

As soon as the communication opens, Bella wants to throw up. This is no message from her father. Encrypted behind several layers of code that were drilled into her head since she was a child, is a suicide letter.

It takes Bella's brain a second to catch up. Only after staring at it does she realise that message is from one of her contacts, one she would trust with her life. Jenks. The attached document must be what he has found based on Bella's inquiries. With her heart nearly pounding out of her chest, Bella begins reading the words.

 _Dear Jane,_

 _I am sorry. I am, more than anything, so sorry, sister. I cannot live with the guilt, cannot live knowing what we have done. Around me everyone is rejoicing – relieved that the virus on Xepherya has meant the first reprieve from their attacks in years, but I cannot stand it._

 _It is my fault. I am responsible. All those deaths…are on my hands. All that blood._

 _I am forbidden from speaking of it, but someone needs to know. The viral sickness – it is our doing. Three years ago I was approached by the King himself, asking for something to be done. To very quietly see if my research could ever survive a jump through space. He said it was a way to research longer distance space-flight, swore to me that my bacteria was a good way of testing without using sentient beings – part organic, part mechanic. For years I worked, strengthening my cultures, working quietly – I swear to you, sister, I had no idea. If I would have known what he would do with it—_

 _I cannot explain how frightening the King is. Three months ago he came to me, asking to know of the progress. I said that my cultures were strong and would be able to survive a space jump, but in my effort to strengthen them they had become highly volatile. They replicated a virus, an infection, and I no longer felt comfortable sending them into space, in fear for the men onboard the spacecraft. The King did not listen. He said the testing still had to be carried out. He convinced me. Told me it was purely scientific, to give our people a future way to escape Mongrovia. I was so naïve, sister. So foolish. As soon as I heard of the outbreak on Xepherya I knew. I knew my research was killing millions._

 _Two weeks ago, I forced myself back to work, I needed to know the repercussions of the virus, needed to know what I had created. Jane, my virus creates sterility. I tested it on flies – their genetics are altered, even ten generations after exposure more than seventy percent of the females are unable to reproduce. Because of what I have done, the Xepheryan race will die out._

 _All my research is left in your care. Perhaps one day someone can find a way to reverse what I have done. Hide it. Hide it well. Do not let the King know it exists. Heavens, what have I done?_

 _Sister, forgive me. Heavens, forgive me. I do not deserve it, but have mercy on my soul. I did not know what I had created._

 _Alec._

Bella can barely read the words her hands are shaking so badly. She wraps her arms around her now large stomach, rocking as she feels the baby move inside at her distress. Everything she has ever feared, confirmed. The letter is dated just over thirty years ago, during the time when Bella's grandfather reigned. Bella's own blood is responsible for the horror of biological warfare, the murder of millions by a virus that they have no way of fighting.

She wants to tell Emmett, tell the one person that will understand her horror and shame, but of this, perhaps she can spare her younger brother. _Her brother_. She has not thought of Emmett as her baby brother in a long time. It was conditioned out of both of them before they came to Xepherya. Emmett's existence is secret even to the people of Mongrovia; King Charles' illegitimate child conceived just after Bella's mother was killed. Bella was well known, but Charles wanted to spare Emmett and his mother if he could. Bella could not be saved as the heir, but Emmett…could be protected.

How much of this does her father know? She cannot imagine him condoning biological warfare, but what does she know? Her memories of her grandfather are loving, an old man that she played cards with. How could this man possibly be responsible for the death of millions of innocent people?

She wants to hide. How easy it would be to pretend she does not know this. Protect the peace, hide away the information, let it die with her grandfather.

And then she remembers Rose. And Tanya. All those women being helped by the foundation. Even Princess Alice who Bella only recently realised was unable to have children herself.

Her own child. Her baby. Is this the mother she is going to be?

 _No._

Still shaking, she knows what she has to do.

It takes five minutes just to get her voice to work enough to send the call. It takes several seconds for her to give the authorization for the doors to be opened into her bedroom. Even sending a quick message to Emmett saying that she does not need him in the room is hard.

When Edward and Bella are locked in her bedroom, she is sure she is going to faint.

Edward looks uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the room as Bella sits on the edge of her bed. He has not been in this room for who knows how long.

"Is everything alright? Is it the baby?"

"No, the baby is fine." Bella dares look up at him, a man who she still can't make up her mind about, and bursts into tears. She cannot stop it. She buries her face in her hands, great sobs wracking her body, and when she feels Edward wrap his arms around her she lets him. He murmurs soothing things in her ear, rocking with her, but all it does is make Bella cry harder, because she knows as soon as she tells him he will surely hate her. In that moment, knowing she is about to be deprived of his affection, her feelings are crystal clear. How could she ever doubt that she loves him?

"Bella, my dear wife, what is wrong? Please, talk to me. You're scaring me."

Selfishly, Bella buries her face into his chest. How long ago was it she allowed herself this type of comfort? His arms are strong around her shoulders, firm and warm, and it breaks her heart even more.

"It's horrible," she manages to choke out between sobs. "You're going to hate me."

"Hate you?" Edward is speaking into the top of her head, his lips warm on the crown of her head. "Impossible. I could never hate you. Never."

It takes several minutes for Bella to compose herself. When she does she has to tear herself away from his arms, waving him away when she stands and waddles out into the middle of the room, leaving him seated. She can't look at him, afraid of what expression he will give her once he knows, so she stares at her mother's painting, tears silently sliding down her cheeks.

"When I was growing up, I heard…rumours." Bella's voice is oddly detached, a shell of herself taking control just to get the words out. She holds her stomach tighter, feeling the kick of her child. Edward's child. Will he hate the child as well? Just for sharing blood with her grandfather? Bella prays not.

"What are you talking about? Rumours about what?" Edward sounds wary, hesitant, and Bella wonders if he will scream like he screamed at Tanya. Surely this sin is greater.

"The war…it was killing us all. Before the peace there was no solution." Bella realises that she is too close to sounding like she's making excuses and backtracks. Like a band-aid. "I heard rumours about Xepherya, about…the Sickness."

She can practically feel Edward freezing on the bed. She hears his quiet intake of breath and forces herself not to start crying again.

"I don't even know if my father knows, but some of the older generals sometimes…alluded to the possibility that the Sickness was not…natural. After I came here, I had to know. I made inquiries. The sickness…it wasn't nature. It was genetically engineered. Biological warfare. Today, I got proof. My grandfather…he released the virus. They didn't know about the side-effects until after it had already been released. It's our fault. My family's fault."

In the silence that follows Bella can hear a pin drop. Seconds, minutes pass, and eventually she is forced to look at Edward. She wishes she hadn't.

He sits hunched over, his hands resting on either side of his thighs on the bed, his head downturned. Yet, his green eyes are firmly fixed on Bella.

Despite his earlier assurances, his shock and disgust are plain to see. Disbelief. Fury. Shame. Blame.

"You? You created this? Mongrovia…is to blame for the past _thirty years_?"

"Yes." Bella almost apologies but bites her tongue. How will one apology fix all that has happened? "I swear—"

"Don't." Edward barks the word, cutting Bella off as he buries his hands in his hair, clenching his eyes shut as he grimaces. He is silent for several minutes, almost vibrating in his seat. Bella almost wishes he would scream. At least then she could defend herself, say something. This silence is making her feel unhinged with desperation.

"Please, say something." She wants to shake him, but she's lost that right. She is not sure she ever had it.

"Say what?" His voice is so low Bella has to strain to hear it. "Say that it's not your fault?" He looks up at Bella again and the loathing there makes Bella stumble backwards. "Say that I spent _years_ defending you? Defending your family? Every time my father went on one of his diatribes about what monsters you all were I would stop him? Only…only for him to be proven _right_?"

Bella was right. Screaming would have been a mercy. This contained rage is worse.

"I want to help. Now that I have proof, I can go to my father, force him to open archives, find the old research – maybe we can find a cure—"

"Help like you did with the foundation? Tell me, was all that talk about Rose just for show? A way of alleviating some of your guilt?" Edward's words slice through Bella like knives. "Do you know what you've done? The foundation…no one will ever believe that I didn't know. The people will think my family was involved, like I was somehow trying to get away with not telling. I will lose the trust of my own people."

"I was only trying to _help_!" Bella is crying again, and if Edward refuses to scream, then she will. "And it wasn't a lie, when I came to you about the foundation I only ever suspected, I never knew for certain. I couldn't risk the peace until I knew!"

"Risk the peace? Or risk exposing your family as villains, not just innocent victims?"

"Be careful." Bella's own fury is growing, her shoulders straightening out as she looks Edward in the eye. "In this room of all places we both know there is no such thing as an innocent royal in this war."

Bella motions to her mother's painting and Edward's face grows impossibly darker.

"Your father ordered my mother's death, did he not?" Bella feels almost liberated saying the words aloud for the first time. "I have lived in the same house as my mother's _murderer_ for months, so don't talk to me about villains."

With a final glare, Edward stands up and silently walks out of the room. The minute the door closes behind him, her anger evaporates and Bella wants to cry out for him to come back. What was she thinking? Accusing him? Her and her godforsaken temper. He is entitled to shock, to grief and rage. Why did she have to get defensive?

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

A call at the door and Bella rushes to it. Edward, Edward has come back, she thinks, unbelievably relieved.

She rushes to the door, opening it as she calls:

"Ed—" but she never finishes, because standing in the door is not Edward.

"Jake?"

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a/n: To all that engage with the story, I am forever humbled. We are nearing the end, only three chapters to go!


	16. Chapter 16

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

My apologies for not having been replying to reviews, I read them all and all your theories make me smile. You'll be happy to know that the reason I've not had the time is because I've been writing an **EPOV outtake**!

Now, onwards!

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16

Warm arms around her, strong, tightly held, that smell of sunshine and seawater – _Jake_. He's hugging her. She's completely lost in his embrace. She forgot how _tall_ he is. Is she dreaming? She must be. But no dream is this vivid. In no dream is she ever hugged so hard it almost hurts. In her dreams her pregnant belly isn't caught between them.

Has she lost her mind then? The argument with Edward the last straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak? She's finally snapped. Lost touch with reality. Maybe this is her mind's way of shielding itself, clouded in a warm blanket, taken back to the last time Bella felt truly safe.

"Ah, Bells. Damn, you are a sight for sore eyes." And then his hands are cupping her face, lovingly, tenderly, and when he kisses her she is lost. She doesn't care. If this is her losing touch with reality, she will happily do it.

Nostalgia floods her. In a moment, she is a teenager again, running away from her father and kissing in the hallways, sneaking out and being gone all night only to sneak back inside in the morning, pretending to be none-the-wiser when she is woken up. Any minute now, Emmett will come in, make a disgruntled noise and tell Jake to get his paws off his sister and Bella will tell him that she is old enough to know what she is doing – old enough…

 _Wait._

No. This isn't right. Bella _isn't_ back on Mongrovia. She is on Xepherya. And she is no longer a teenager – she is an adult. She is _married_.

 _Edward._

"Wait!"

She pushes on his chest, staring up at a face that was once so familiar to her.

He looks older, more haunted than she has ever seen him. His dark eyes are watching her almost desperately, clutching at her face as if she will disappear in a puff of smoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you, dumb-dumb." He smiles, and although it is her special smile, it no longer lights up the room. It no longer makes her feel like everything will be okay. Instead, it fills her with trepidation. "This…wow."

His hands leave her face, reaching down to hesitantly touch her round stomach, where she is eight months pregnant with another man's child.

"Quite the trip, no? Didn't think it'd feel…" Swallowing, he catches Bella's eye again, cupping the back of her head with one hand. "You know what, I don't care. You are all I care about. And we need to get you out, so the thing will just have to come with us. After you've given birth we can deal with it. You shouldn't have to raise his spawn, not when you never wanted this. Fuck, Bells, I'm so sorry I couldn't spare you. Couldn't… _fuck_ just thinking about his hands on you…I've been going _mad_. All that kept me from smuggling you home earlier was knowing that in your heart you still loved me, but that meant that fucker had to…had to… _fuck_ I should kill him for touching you."

Bella's brain seems to have trouble catching up. All she can really grasp is that something is really _wrong_.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't like that, he never, Edward never—and what do you mean _deal_ with it?"

"Come on, there's no time, I promise I'll explain everything once we get out of here." Bella has no time to object as she's dragged by the hand out of the doorway, down the corridor and into the sitting room. The sight that greets her is proof that she should've panicked five minutes ago.

Kebi is lying face down across the floor, blood pooling around her face, and not far from her lies Rose, still and unconscious. A laser gun is pointed at her crumpled form, a man Bella has never seen – but undoubtedly Mongrovian – holding the trigger as he gazes calmly at Emmett, held by two other Mongrovian men by each arm as he kneels on the floor. Emmett's face is a mess, blood tricking down his nose and one eye already starting to swell.

"Emmett!" Bella wrenches her hand away from Jake's, rushing to her brother and cupping his bloodied face in her hands.

"Ah, Bells, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, they're threatening Rosie—"

There isn't enough of her. Seeing that her brother is alive, she scrambles over to Rose, Emmett moaning when Bella pushes at the man with the gun to get to the unconscious woman on the floor. Relief surges through her when she realises that Rose is breathing.

"What on Mongrovia!" Bella is nearly frantic with shock, her eyes darting between the three men holding the people she loves hostage and Jake, who has the nerve to stand there with an expression that seems to say "oopsie". It is the same look he used to give her when he would accidentally tear one of her finer garments getting her to climb trees when they were young. It only manages to enrage Bella further. "Jacob Black, what have you done! And get that gun away from me!"

The man looks uncertainly at Jake, who after a moment nods, thankfully making the man lower his rifle.

Hesitant to leave Rose's form, Bella stares at Kebi, hoping to see her chest move, hoping to see _something_ that will tell her that she is alive.

"I told you, we're getting you out of here. The original plan was to get Emmett as well, but…"

"Fuck you, Jacob." Emmett spits the words, struggling against the two men, but even Emmett's impressive size can do nothing when Jacob raises his own weapon and points it at Rose.

"You could've gone with us. But you had to go and get attached to a Xepheryan whore. They've brainwashed you, can't you see? Bells, I know this looks bad but we need to get going. We only have a small window before the alarm is back online."

In some distant part of Bella's brain, she realises that she should perhaps be reacting with fear. Fear for herself, fear for her brother, for Rose, for Kebi – who may or may not be alive – fear for her unborn child. But the situation is so _ludicrous_. Here is the man, the man who _vowed_ to love her until the end of his days, holding a gun, willing to _kill_ to kidnap her – rage is the only thing she can feel. It consumes her, pulsating with every beat of her heart, making her hands shake with the effort it takes not to throttle someone. She wants to physically _harm_ all of them.

"You have thirty seconds." She doesn't recognise her own voice. Her eerie tone forces the whole room silent, even Emmett seeming to shrink. "Thirty seconds, Jacob Black, to explain. Unless you're willing to point that gun at me as well?"

Jake's brow furrows in uncertainly, the first real emotion Bella has seen on his face that reminds her that this is a man she supposedly loves.

"Bells, it isn't what it looks like. We're with the resistance, we're willing to do what your father is too much of a coward to do. We're getting you out of here! We're _rescuing_ you. I can't imagine—" he makes to take a step in her direction but the look on her face must stop him, so he swallows visibly and continues, "can't imagine what you've been through, and I get that after being captive for so long you will have formed some… _attachment_ to them, but these leeches don't deserve your compassion! You've been brainwashed, Bells, and that spawn child of yours, as soon as we get you to safety we can fix it, we have doctors that can make it as if it never happened. There's another team heading for the impostor Prince as we speak, you'll be free of him! Free of this pretend peace!"

The anger seeps out of Bella like air from a popped balloon. There one moment, gone the next. It isn't Bella who is brainwashed, but _Jake_.

Bella places a hand on her stomach, trying to keep calm.

Jake intends to take her from Xepherya.

He intends to kill Edward.

He intends to kill their _child_.

And he has no regard for anyone who gets in his way.

She can feel the panic crawling up her throat, cutting off her breathing, but she feels the unsettled moving of her child and forces herself to stop. Forces herself to clench her eyes together and focus.

She is a _Princess_. A Princess of two moons. And she is a _mother_.

She leans down, placing a kiss on Rose's clammy forehead.

"The people in this room are innocents. They are only following orders. When we leave, they are to be unharmed."

"Bells, no! Bella!"

Bella ignores Emmett's shouts and stands up, reaching down into the very depth of her soul to overcome every natural response and smiles at Jake. She walks over to him, placing a hand over his fist holding the rifle and gently forces him to lower it to the ground.

"Please, Jake, for me. Me and my soft heart, you know."

For a moment, Bella thinks he will see through her. But then he smiles, that goofy, carefree smile that Bella used to think was brighter than the sun, and he nods.

Was he always capable of this? She wonders. Was he always unstable and prone to prejudice and fear?

 _Was he like this when she loved him?_

Because in that moment, she knows she will never love Jake again. Threatening her baby, threatening her family, her love for him feels juvenile, adolescent. Coated in innocence of infancy that was destroyed as soon as he overstepped. She looks at Jake and sees a child.

It is almost as distressing as the situation she finds herself in.

"Knock him out, careful you don't kill him, and take him with us. We could use him for information."

"What about the women?"

"Leave them. That one's as good as dead anyway."

Pain stabs at Bella's heart at Jake's callous words. What happened to the boy she used to know? How could their paths have diverged so much?

"Let me call the doctor, please."

"Boss, we're already running behind." Bella is really starting to deplore the three men with Jacob.

"No time. Come on, let's go."

Bella shuts her eyes at the sickening thud of Emmett being knocked unconscious and sends a silent apology to Kebi. If she is not dead already, Bella certainly signed her death-warrant by not fighting for a doctor. But if it is Kebi's life or the life of her child… Later, she decides. She can feel guilty later.

They are a macabre sight, one of Jacob's guards in front, Bella and Jacob in the middle and the two men carrying Emmett in between them at the rear as they walk down the corridors as quickly as they can. Bella tries not to throw up at having to hold Jacob's hand but she has to pretend. It is the only way of saving them. At every turn, the way is deserted and Bella wonders how many died in Jake's insane attempt at getting to Bella. The men seem to know exactly where they're going, away from the main halls, into servant's corridors that Bella has never stepped foot in, and searching for a way to curb her growing panic she knows she needs to occupy herself.

"How? How on earth did you do it? We've never managed to breech the city before." Bella is counting on Jacob's boyish pride, hoping that he will want to explain, and for once she is not disappointed.

"So many are unhappy, Bells. Scientists and engineers defected to the cause so quickly your father couldn't count them all. When we got the base, it was easy. A few modifications, even my own father would've been proud." He stops to laugh, an odd, bitter sound, and Bella wants to cry for all the people back home. Does Billy know what's become of his son? "We were waiting for inside intelligence. We needed information before we made our move, and it was delivered to us on a silver platter. Fucking beautiful it was, some old bodyguard who – listen to this – had a thing for you and so thought you deserved better! You beautiful woman, Bells, even convinced the fucking leech Xepheryans to love you."

 _James._

Oh no.

Bella wants to scream in frustration. Why is everything against them? Why had she not said something about her unease for James earlier?

Several turns later and they arrive at a small entrance, a maintenance hatch of some kind. The first man heads down, and the three of them manoeuvre Emmett's large body down a set of ladders, leaving Bella and Jake at the top. With every bounce of Emmett's head against a surface Bella cringes.

Does she run now? Will Jake harm her if she tries anything? And what about Emmett? She can't leave her brother—

"Stay where you are and you might just make it out of this alive."

Edward's voice is like a balm to her racing heart, until she realises what this looks like. And after the argument they just had, no, he must think that Bella is running away!

When she turns to look, Edward is standing at the other end of the corridor, too far to run to, a contingency of guards at his back. He looks murderous, his face drawn in a furious mask which causes Bella to shrink back. And yet, this is Edward, a man she knows would never harm her, even if she had betrayed him.

"Step away from the Princess."

Just as Bella opens her mouth to say that Emmett is knocked out, that she is being kidnapped, Jacob moves behind her, wrapping one arm over her shoulder with the other holding the gun pointing at her stomach. Bella whimpers, knowing that no mind-trick will calm her now.

 _Her baby._

 _Not her baby._

"Sorry, Bells, you need to trust me," Jacob whispers into her ear, before he continues at in a louder voice. "I am taking the Princess back home. Shoot and risk the life of your devil offspring."

Something other than rage flickers in Edward's expression, but it is to far away for Bella to see. How did she end up here? Between the two men she's ever loved?

Bella feels more than sees Jacob's lips as he kisses her temple, and this time Edward can't stop himself from taking a step forward.

"I was going to ask her to marry me." Jacob is speaking to Edward now, seemingly forgetting that Bella is there. "She loves _me_. Not you, you rapist leech. We're gonna get rid of the thing growing inside her like cancer and we will continue as we were meant to."

Edward's eyes flicker between Bella and Jacob, raising his hand to stop his guards from attacking. Bella scrambles, trying to think of _something_ she can say that would let Edward know that she didn't mean any of it, that all she wants to do is run into his arms, but panic prevents her brain from working properly.

In the end, there is nothing. Her hands ends up floating to her stomach, as if her palms could ever save her child from a weapon.

"Order your guards to stand down," Jacob orders. "Right now, order them to stand down and give us clear passage, and we _might_ consider giving you the hybrid instead of killing it."

Edward's eyes are greener than Bella has ever seen them when he stares at her. In that moment the rest of the world falls away and Bella feels as if everything will be alright. Her calm in the storm.

"I think you'll find, on this planet, _I_ give the orders." Edward tears his eyes from Bella and looks behind her, into what has to be Jacob's face. "Your accomplices are apprehended. Your escape route compromised. You are trapped. Release the Princess, my _wife_ , and I will hand you over to the authorities to be tried instead of killing you on sight for treason."

Jacob's arm tightens uncomfortably around Bella's shoulder and she feels the tip of the gun dig into her stomach. Tears are streaming down her face, a never ending loop of prayers for the life of her child swimming in her head.

The next few seconds happen so fast Bella struggles to keep up.

Edward's group move. Lasers are fired from every angle. Bella gets pushed down, Jacob collapsing – and then pain. Intense, debilitating pain in her stomach.

The last thing she comprehends is looking down and seeing a large, gushing red stain just at the top of her stomach, and someone screaming her name, before it all goes black.


	17. Chapter 17

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

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17

She is dreaming. She must be.

She is in her meadow, lying in the waist-high grass as the sun shines down from above. Her mother lies next to her, calmly resting with her eyes closed.

It has been years since she dreamt of her mother. And never this clearly. Parts of her face she is sure she has forgotten, like the freckles on her nose, laugh-lines around her mouth.

"Mom?"

Renée turns her head, looking at Bella with a gentle smile. She has flecks of green in her eyes. Bella never knew.

"My darling baby girl. It's time to wake up."

"I'm afraid." Cloudy memories, pain and fear, pull at Bella's mind, and she knows waking up will mean a very uncertain future.

"Don't be. You have people waiting for you. People you need to meet. Be brave, my darling. Like you've been all your life."

Before she can say anything else, her mother disappears and she feels hazy, her head lolling back into the grass. Or is it grass?

She feels disoriented, as if her limbs are not really responding to her bidding.

"Your Highness?"

Bella struggles to open her eyes – is it usually this difficult? – but finally succeeds, coming face to face with the gentle smile of Dr Cullen, his blue eyes sparkling in the mute light.

She is back in her bedroom, her mother's painting a sentry in the otherwise quiet space.

"You gave us quite the fright. The Prince has been going half out of his mind. Has barely left your bedside unless ordered away."

Instinctively, Bella reaches for her stomach, panic flooding her when her stomach is flat.

"My baby—"

"Is safe." Dr Cullen smiles, placing a calming hand on Bella's forearm. " _She_ is safe, looked over by the most experienced neonatal doctors on this moon and being cared for by Lady Hale and her very overprotective uncle."

"Emmett?" Did she just hear Dr Cullen say uncle?

"Is also safe. All will be explained, your Highness, all you need to know this very moment is that everyone is well. If you can stay calm, I can call for the Prince and he can explain everything."

Although part of Bella wants to wail for her baby to be brought to her this instance – the baby is too small, too young to be born – for Dr Cullen to somehow prove that everything is alright, she forces herself to calm. She still doesn't quite feel fully there, and there are restrictions on her body – bandages?

More time must have passed, but Bella feels as if she's hardly blinked before Edward is at her side, his strong hand in hers and the other brushing away the hair from her forehead. He smiles down at her with so much affection Bella almost cries.

"I'm so sorry." It's all she can think of saying.

"Whatever for?" He still has that smile, his voice calm and soothing.

"For everything. For the fight, for Jacob – I swear I didn't know, I didn't want to go, and our baby—"

"Shh, my darling, you'll hurt yourself." He swallows, his fingers warm on her forehead. "I nearly lost you. Our daughter nearly lost her mother. There is nothing to apologise for."

"Daughter?" Bella's heart seems to swell, the knowledge that she has a _daughter_ , somewhere out there, a baby girl…

"A beautiful girl with her mother's eyes."

"I need to see her, where is she?" Bella tries to push herself into a seated position, but even with what she can assume to be heavy sedation her stomach twinges with pain. Edward pushes her down with a scowl, one he can't hold for more than a second.

"Emmett and Lady Hale are bringing her now. Your _brother_." Edward raises an eyebrow at Bella, and she has the decency to blush. "You Mongrovians are very tight-lipped with your secrets, are you not? Whoever knew there were _two_ royal heirs to the throne?"

"How did you find out?" Bella had intended to tell Edward at one point, but it had never felt like her secret to tell.

"Emmett… He was very insistent on seeing you, and the baby. He called himself an uncle without much thought and well. Conclusions were drawn. He explained…why."

Bella finds and grasps Edward's free hand at the shadow that crosses his face, and this is undoubtedly a topic that deserves further discussion, but not now.

"What happened? I don't remember anything after…"

Edward nods, shifting in his seat. Bella doesn't like the look of pain that flashes in his eyes, but she needs to know.

"After I…left the apartment, I headed to the gardens. I noticed something was wrong, because the guards that usually patrol were missing. Amun checked the news feeds and realised everything was off-line. Everything. Even the back-up systems. We tried to raise the alarm but even that was wired to short-cut so we ran back toward the apartment but got ambushed. Thankfully I had taken the guards from the mess-hall on my way. I don't think they had counted on that. We forced one of the men to tell us where their entry points and escape routes were before getting to the apartment. When I saw Kebi and Lady Hale I feared the worst."

Edward clears his throat, shifting as he clenches his jaw shut. Bella wishes she can spare him the memories.

"We were able to take a more direct route than the apprehended men had described," Edward continues. "We positioned men out of sight and waited for you to come to us. We knew you were still in the palace because external cameras that had not been affected had a view of their escape pod. All we needed was a clear shot. A…chance to get you away from them."

Here Bella has to interrupt.

"You must know, I had no idea they were coming for me. I tried to get a doctor for Kebi, tried to argue with them—"

"I know, love." Edward smiles sadly at Bella, and the term of endearment causes Bella's head to swim. Could he still care for her? Even after everything?

"I had to pretend. I was trying to find a moment to get away, had to keep them calm so they wouldn't hurt our baby."

"And you did the right thing." Edward's tone is strong, forceful. "Playing the hero would have done no one any good. I believe you, my love, I do. Out of all the things I have ever feared…you running away has never been one of them. You are too stubborn for taking the coward's way out."

She does not deserve his faith in her. She certainly can never live up to this idea he has of her. Then again, was she not known as the Ice Princess on this moon? Maybe stubbornness somehow fit.

When Bella does not reply, Edward eventually looks down at the covers of the bed, not meeting Bella's eye as he continues.

"We had snipers surrounding the shaft. One had a clear shot through a ventilation opening. He took the shot, but…missed. It gave your attacker time to…fire his weapon. By some miracle he missed the baby, but you were still bleeding out. Dr Cullen performed an emergency C-section. Our daughter is a bit too young, but she is strong. With some extra care she will be just as strong as if the labour was natural. All ten fingers and toes."

It takes great effort to not ask more questions about her daughter, but she has other people she cares about too.

"What about Emmett? He was unconscious, they beat him."

"He woke up when they tried to get him down. He fought back as soon as they reached the bottom. The man is a horse." Bella doesn't doubt it. She is happy to see a note of pride in Edward's expression.

"And Rose? Kebi?"

"Lady Hale is fine. She awoke with a headache, nothing more. Kebi…I am very sorry to say didn't make it."

Bella has to clench her eyes shut to stop herself from crying. She knew it. But she had hoped…

"Kebi knew what she signed up for." Edward's fingers twine through Bella's hair, smoothening errant strands. "She knew this assignment could require her to lay down her life. She will be given a memorial fitting of someone who gave her life to save the royal family. Along with the other seven guards that lost their lives in the raid."

"It was James." Fury burns in Bella's stomach like acid when she thinks of the man who spent so much time on the fringes of her life only to turn a feeling of rejection into this madness.

"I know. He is being tried for treason. He will not see daylight again." The coldness in Edward's voice sends unpleasant shivers down Bella's spine, and she knows there is one more person whose fate she needs to know.

"What about Jacob?" she doesn't dare open her eyes for the answer.

"Dead. Shot as soon as he dared fire against you." Bella knows it would have been the only option, but hearing it is still difficult. "I am…sorry. I know he was someone to you, back on Mongrovia." Bella can't quite make out Edward's tone, but if there is anything she is clear on, it is that she needs to move forward.

"Don't be." Squeezing his hand, she opens her eyes to look at him. "The boy I knew died long ago. That… _thing_ …is not someone I mourn."

Movement at the door interrupts their conversation, and Bella has to be physically held down by Edward by the shoulders when she sees who it is. She should have better manners and at least ask about the health of her brother and friend, but she can't tear her eyes away from the bundle in Rose's arms.

All Bella can do is allow a noise, halfway between a sigh and a gasp to escape her as Rose gently places the bundle on her chest, Edward hovering just on the other side as Rose steps back.

She is so _small_. Bella can't comprehend that this little creature, still small and wrinkly as she wiggles in her wrappings is the same baby that she carried.

"Meet our daughter."

Bella wraps her arms around the child, her child, and feels the world shift, her need for anyone outside of this room disappearing into near nothing. As if she could hear it, the baby opens her eyes, cloudy grey orbs peering back at Bella with such openness and intrigue. Under her cap, wisps of reddish hair emerge, and Bella pulls her eyes away from her daughter long enough to look at her husband, the man who she was once so unsure of.

"I want to name her Renée."

The smile on Edward's face is blinding.

"How about Eliza Renée?"

"Perfect."

As her gaze returns to her daughter, to Eliza Renée, a thought occurs to Bella.

"What about the peace? With the attack—"

"Everything is being taken care of." Edward reaches forward and places a kiss on Bella's forehead, the intimate gesture suddenly not enough. "You just rest."

Soon, Bella thinks. Soon.

* * *

a/n: Only one more chapter, which is more of an epilogue than anything. This story was always Bella's, with large portions happening in her own head. Therefore, you won't get the detailed descriptions of romance because to Bella, she's already made the journey in her head that she needs to make to complete the story.

 **THAT SAID** , Edward, the little bugger, turned out to have quite a lot to say and his "outtake" is currently sitting on nearly 7000 words. This will be posted either tomorrow, with the epilogue, or the day after. Trust me when I say that the EPOV chapter will not only explain some of his thoughts but also very much appeal to the romantics out there.


	18. Epilogue

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

 **IMPORTANT: I am posting two chapters at the same time, but the Epilogue (chapter 18) is meant to be read BEFORE the EPOV outtake**

* * *

18  
 _Epilogue_

Peace is a process.

This is ever more so apparent to Bella as the years pass. She still has mornings of waking up expecting to hear bombs in the distance, the sky lit with incendiaries that are equally beautiful as they are deadly. She still has nightmares of being pulled through the halls of the castle on Xepherya, her stomach bleeding and Kebi's corpse on the floor.

But then she wakes up and turns over, curling herself into the warmth of Edward's body, and reminds herself that there was change, but change was for the better. The twins are nearly as tall as Eliza now, only three years younger, and the addition of their four cousins means there is never a dull moment. Eliza acts like a ringleader, too clever for her own good and leads her younger siblings and cousins into constant mischief.

Two months after Eliza's birth, Bella and Edward took over as rulers of both moons, too much bad blood on both sides for their fathers to continue ruling. Between King Charles' failings in dealing with the rebels and King Edward's inability to turn parliament's opinion in his favour there was no other way. Archives were opened, doctors consulted, and ten years after the unveiling of the true nature of the Sickness, they have had the first true breakthrough on a cure. Bella hopes that in the next few years a medicine can be created. The atmosphere on Mongrovia finally settled, allowing crops to be sown that were previously too frail, and old scars are finally beginning to heal. Bella, in an official decree, opened dialogue with the rebels and offered amnesty to all those that turned themselves in, and although a group remained with the name of the original organisation, it never again held the power it did during Bella's pregnancy. The first royal act Bella and Edward decreed as rulers was to instigate a truth-commission, aimed at uncovering everything that had happened and concealed during the century-long war, and to this day they are still finding new information. Memorials are built, stories told, and slowly both moons are beginning to think of the war as something that used to be, not something that is ongoing.

The royal family travels between the moons, spending half the year on each moon before rotating back, and Bella finds herself eager to show Edward the secrets of her home. Even after a decade she never tires of seeing him in the sun, his skin sun-kissed and glowing. The past ten years have not been easy and most certainly not straight forward, with tensions and violence flaring from time to time, but ultimately calming with careful coaxing.

Bella looks at Eliza, knowing her daughter will have struggles, but confident that she has done everything in her power to ensure that her daughter will have a stable platform to build on. In comparison, the sacrifices Bella made seem miniscule.

Peace, it is a process, but one Bella will never stop fighting for.

 _._

 _The End_

 _._

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a/n: although this is the official end of the story, I will save my ramblings for after you've read Edward's outtake, which is already posted!


	19. EPOV Of Patience and Virtue

a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

* * *

 **IMPORTANT: I am posting two chapters at the same time, but the Epilogue (chapter 18) is meant to be read BEFORE the EPOV outtake**

* * *

 **Of Patience and Virtue  
** Edward's Point of View

Set after chapter 17, but before the Epilogue.  
As the outtake opens, we pick up Edward and Bella's relationship as it is at the end of chapter 17  
They are very good friends with potentially undisclosed romantic feelings for one another  
They are _not_ outwardly in a romantic relationship

.

 _Heavens, she is beautiful._

Perhaps Edward should be capable of other thoughts watching the coronation of Queen Isabella, but logic fails him.

Eliza stirs in his arms but thankfully only smacks her lips in her sleep before calming again. He feels full. Unable to fully focus on anyone or anything that is not either Bella or Eliza.

The proceedings have been going on for over an hour, but Edward doesn't much mind. He had to go through his own coronation not two days prior and the day after was spent travelling with the family and several contingencies of security to Mongrovia. Not to mention that sleep is hard to come by with a fussing infant in the apartment. A few hours without anyone speaking to him is a blessing.

Edward is on Mongrovia. _Mongrovia_. And no one is screaming at him, no one is cowering, no one is attempting to attack him, but all stare in _intrigue_ , wanting to see the babe in his arms. Wanting to see the King of Xepherya holding his daughter, the Princess of _Olympia_. Because that is her true title – Crown Princess Eliza Renée of Olympia. Of the planet our two moons revolve around.

The faces are different here, warmer skin-tones, hues of olive and ebony rather than peach and alabaster. Edward quite likes it. Less pink. Bella warned him that he would feel a difference in the atmosphere, that the lower humidity might take some getting used to, but other than a scratchy throat he seems to be fairing rather well. Perhaps it is true what they say about men who have had all their dreams realised. The little things fall away. Become easy to shrug off.

Bella stands in the middle of a circular aqueduct, tall stone structures on either side as her as four priests anoint her in salt-water, reciting old texts from the early explorers, calling to Gods that are familiar to Edward also. She is wearing a warrior's uniform, hugging trousers and a synthetic short-sleeved armour reminiscent of the suits the early explorers would have worn when first coming to Mongrovia. With black soot on her face and her hair wet from the saltwater she looks positively frightening, frightening in her beauty, frightening in her strength. He is in awe. There is no other word for it.

Edward stands with the Mongorvian people as they watch, large screens surrounding the crowd all the way back to a square that signifies the middle of the capitol. An open-aired feast is planned, food to feed the masses, a lot of which was brought with them from Xepherya. The tone is so different from his own coronation; this seems more of a people's celebration, whereas his own felt old, stuffy. Done in closed halls and presented to the people as an afterthought. Maybe the sunnier weather make people more open here.

Emmett and Rosalie are with him on one side, Jasper, his sister's husband, on the other. All around him are security, but he doesn't feel singled out. He feels the absence of Amun and Kebi, having spent so much time around them in the past year, but Amun chose to spend time with his family and take some very deserved leave. After what happened to his sister Edward does not blame him. Thankfully it appears Amun can be spared. There had been a few scuffles, but it had always been people wanting to get too close, not from those with evil intent. Although the Mongrovian rebel group is still active, there have been no sign of them. Edward smiles when he remembers the look on his sister Alice's face when she realised she would be unable to come with them to Mongrovia, but as the third in line to the throne it was too big of a security risk to have _every_ member of the royal family present. So Jasper was sent as her representative. Under strict instructions to document _everything_.

It is with relief that Edward now looks at Lady Hale. Rosalie. His gratitude for that woman knows no limits. He is almost positive that without Rosalie there would have been no pulling Bella out of her depression. And to think, this was the woman who his own father treated so abhorrently. Being told that he would have to produce a royal heir with Bella, his wife who was free to say no, was one thing, but the thought of watching Rosalie carry his child because she was forced? He can hardly bear the thought. It matters little if the pregnancy would have been through medical intervention, Rosalie deserves better. Tanya deserves better. But his father is a _fixer_. Find a problem, fix it. Considerations for those involved are unnecessary.

Tanya… _Tan_ … Her name causes a twinge in his stomach, not of longing, but of nostalgia. Had life been different, she would have been his wife. He would have been _happy_ to be her husband. Tanya will always remain one of the most intelligent women he has ever had the pleasure of meeting, a woman of strength and joy. Someone who could lighten Edward's ingrained need for duty. Since that fateful day in the apartment, he had only seen her once. Across the room as she sat with the other nobles at his coronation. Part of Edward would always be ashamed for how things had turned out. For how he broke his promises to Tanya and how he was too much of a coward to deal with it as soon as he realised that he could never be unfaithful to Bella. Instead he left her no option but to reach out. If he had only contacted Tanya as soon as she came back…so much could have been avoided. Would the rebels have attempted to kidnap Bella if they didn't have the excuse of the drama with Tanya?

Still, he felt no resentment when he saw her at his coronation. So much of what was said that night was said in anger, in betrayal, and he knows she meant only a fraction. He also didn't mean everything he said. He hopes one day she will find someone that loves her unconditionally. Someone that makes promises and keeps them. Someone who doesn't need a child.

Edward meant what he said. He never once judged Tanya for being unable to have children, but with his station, no matter how much he wished he could tell her that it didn't matter, the royal line had to be continued. Perhaps it was not smart, but his relationship with Tanya had never been about that. It had been about abandon, about joy, about passion and genuine _happiness_. Letting that go had been difficult. Impossible. And so he made promises…

He cannot regret it. Every little thing, every minute action and fault brought him here. Even if changing the smallest detail endangered his current present…he would not. Eliza. His _daughter_. The Lords back home can grumble all they like, but Eliza will be the first Queen of Xepherya and she will take after her mother. How can Edward be married to Bella and ever doubt that a woman is fit to rule?

Bella… _Queen Isabella_. She has forever altered his life, in ways he could not first imagine.

He had always respected her, long before she came to Xepherya. His spies were well familiar with the Mongrovian royal who refused to stay hidden. In almost every update she was mentioned, how she helped a soup kitchen, how she argued for the rights of the poor, how every single time Edward's father released the harshest vitriol Edward could ever imagine there would be an announcement from Bella not a day later _proving_ Edward's father wrong. She was a true Princess of her people, and only Bella could have convinced him to enter an arranged marriage.

So imagine Edward's horror when this strong, passionate woman he had only seen on screens came to Xepherya and within days wilted like a fading flower. Even the day of their wedding Edward knew something was…off. At first he thought perhaps it was judgement on her part of Xepherya, of his people, but it didn't take long to see the fear in her face. The hesitance. He could barely stand it. Desperate to get back the woman he had imagined in his head, but having no idea how to do so. What else could he do but to try to make her as comfortable as possible? He couldn't stand the idea of her living the rest of her days this _shell_ , not after he knew there was so much more to her. In those early weeks…every night she came to his bedroom Edward would have to close his eyes and try to picture the woman he had only seen through spy-reports. Because the woman in front of him? He couldn't help but feel like he was taking advantage of her. He felt sickened with himself. And with Tanya lurking in the back of his mind…he had hated it. Dreaded every night. For weeks he had debated whether artificial insemination would have been the better option, but how could he possibly suggest it without sounding like he was rejecting her? Not to mention that if the media ever got wind of it there would be hell to pay.

The day he found out Bella was pregnant was, up until that point, the most terrifying day of his life. He was consumed by it, hardly able to let her out of his sight from that moment onward. She was not well enough to handle a pregnancy. She didn't get bigger, but thinner, lost colour, hardly spoke above a whisper. She was an excuse of a person, a ghost that could at any moment disappear with a too strong gust of wind. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, one wrong turn and she could lose the baby or lose herself, and despite Carlisle's insistence that he was doing all he could Edward felt frantic with worry. He had never felt so powerless in his life.

And then, salvation came in the form of his ditsy little sister. It had been her hint to push for Edward's long-forgotten idea of getting new royal jewellery made, a task that had fallen to the wayside with everything else going on. But Alice had reminded him, in her usual, overly childish way, that women like gifts. _Find your common ground_ , she had whispered in his ear before she bounced off, once again pretending to be none the wiser.

For the first time since he had seen Bella in person, there was _light_ in her eyes. The transformation was that of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. For the first time in months, Edward could take breath. And she just grew, became the force Edward knew she could be. The day she suggested to set up the Rosalie Hale foundation…Edward knew he was in love with her. Her potential realised, there was no possibility of turning away.

And yet he had promised Tanya that they would be together, pleaded with her to wait for him, until things calmed down. And with Bella herself, Edward could only dare hope that at one point they could grow to be friends, that Bella would one day look at him and feel reassured.

He has never dared hoped for anything else. And after her depression…Edward can hardly wish for anything else. She has come such a long way.

Edward might always love Bella, but he knows she will most likely never love him back. He is not greedy. Perhaps this is the universe balancing the scales for how he treated Tanya. Even the truth about the Sickness could never change how Edward feels about Bella. He was shocked, in the moment, but Bella is no more responsible for the Sickness than Eliza is. And without Bella's efforts, perhaps the truth would never have come to light. Edward knows this now. That day…he still has nightmares about it, months later. The moment he saw Kebi's dead body and Rosalie unconscious he knew Bella would never have left by her own accord. And then, Bella in the arms of that monster, a gun to her stomach, blood…so much _blood_.

Perhaps it is a good thing Jacob Black was killed. Edward doubts he would have been able to stop himself from personally torturing him to death after what he did. And despite Bella's assurances that she no longer cared for the boy, at one point she had. Edward slaughtering him would not have been right to Bella. Knowing that he is already dead also helps to curb Edward's internal jealousy, knowing that murderer got more affection from Bella than Edward ever will.

None of it matters now. The two women in his life are healthy. Bella and Edward have a child, they have a royal heir, and they are both the independent rulers of their moons.

"All hail Queen Isabella!" The crowd cheers in response, the noise so loud Edward has to rock Eliza in his arms as she wakes.

"Here, let me take her. I'll take her back to the palace." Emmett's hands are surprisingly gentle as he takes the child from Edward's arms, the goofy smile on his face enough to make Edward laugh. He has come to really appreciate Emmett. Bella's brother. And here Edward thought nothing would surprise him anymore. "You and Bells just get through today, I've had enough of watching people fawn all over the Queen already."

"You know, some people would consider such a statement treason." Edward almost manages to keep the smile off his face. Almost.

"Good thing you're not such people, eh?"

There are few people Edward will trust with the safety of his daughter, but Emmett is one of them. With Rosalie with them and a dozen guards Edward knows logically that he needs to allow it. Still, letting go is hard, but Bella and Edward still have hours to get through before there will be any semblance of calm. Eliza needs her sleep.

Regretfully Edward watches as Emmett and Rosalie disappear through the crowd with Eliza. Edward hopes Bella's prediction about the growing feelings between Emmett and Rosalie is correct. They deserve one another.

Bella walks through the crowd, her head held high as she catches peoples' eye, touching their hands as she passes, smiling and even stopping to hug those she knows.

"They adore her." Jasper's voice is clear against the din of thousands of people shuffling, a statement of fact.

"Yes."

"She has the potential to be a truly extraordinary Queen. Adored by all, loved by some?" Jasper glances at Edward out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to Bella, the woman in question who just at that moment looks over and smiles at Edward, her eyes dancing.

"She has many who care for her." Edward can't help but smile back, his heart doing an odd flip when he sees that she is directing her steps in his direction. He is so caught by this warrior woman coming toward him that he does not notice Jasper stepping back, does not notice that the crowd is bowing, leaving only Edward and Bella standing at their full height. When she is only a few feet away she reaches for him, most likely intending to take his arm to walk to the feast, but Edward cannot help himself. This had been planned for later on, just as Bella had to do the same to Edward during his coronation on Xepherya, but Edward cannot think of a better time.

As soon as her hand touches his Edward gets down on one knee, bowing to his Queen, his wife, and kisses the back of her hand. When he looks up Bella is almost crying, but the crinkling around her mouth and eyes tell Edward they are happy tears.

"My Queen."

"Edward." She mouths his name, not able to call him by his first name too loudly to allow for protocol.

As Edward stands, they link arms and are together escorted toward the town square. The feast is already underway, the streets a sea of people with vendors and merchants adding to the bustle.

"Eliza?" Bella asks.

"With Emmett. The cheering woke her."

"How did I do?" Bella murmurs the words as they walk, still outwardly intent on the people around her.

"Beautifully. I do fear you've outdone me." Water is still dripping from her hair, the ceremonial soot on her face creating streaks down her shoulders and collarbones.

Bella's only reply is to stick her tongue out at Edward, causing a bark of a laugh to escape him. It is so rare that she is playful he cherishes every moment of it.

With slow steps they finally reach the front of the square where Bella's father is waiting, a pensive expression on his face. Edward has met King Charles previously, during the peace signing but also earlier that day, but no matter the warm feelings Edward holds for his two children, he still struggles to accept King Charles. Most likely in the same way Bella never quite feels comfortable around Edward's father.

With a straight back, King Charles bows, his eyes intent on his daughter. Bella releases Edward's hand and embraces her father, the two of them speaking in hushed whispers. It warms Edward's heart when Bella retakes Edward's arm once she releases her father.

"King Anthony."

"King Charles." It is the only greeting the two men are capable of. Edward still hasn't gotten used to his new title, a new royal name to differentiate between himself and his father.

Unlike their wedding feast, Bella and Edward spend the next few hours talking. Bella explains every food that passes their plates, a non-stop commentary on who would have made it, why it tastes differently than on Xepherya, occasionally adding in stories on how she would find a particular ingredient when raiding the kitchens as a child. Edward feels a bit like a love-sick puppy, unable to take his eyes off Bella for long. She is back to the weight Edward assumes she was before coming to Xepherya, the only difference a rounding of her hips and a more pronounced curve to her breasts. He tries not to stare. Tries to make sure he isn't _caught_ staring. He should simply be happy that with Carlisle's help Bella is healthy and has no adverse effects from the attack. He should _not_ be lusting after her. That is _not_ what friends should do. All their intimate interactions were forced. Thinking about her in that way makes Edward feel like he's back to forcing her into something she does not want.

Her hair has dried, curlier than normal from the salt. He wants to pull his fingers through it. Wants to wipe away the smudge just under one of her eyebrows that is dangerously close to getting in her eye. He wants to be able to touch her not when she is needing comfort, but just because he can. Because every second is a struggle not to.

 _More than I could ever have hoped for_ , he tells himself. _I already have more than I could've ever hoped for._

The feast is winding down and a servant eventually signals to Bella that it is time for her speech. She rises, her face appearing on all the large screens around the square as they are live broadcasted across all of Mongrovia as well as Xepherya. Her royal crown, more elaborate than anything else she has ever worn, glitters in the sun.

"It is good to be home." Bella takes a few moments to pause, smiling as she looks out at the people watching her. Some people cheer, a few cat-call. There is a comfort toward the royals here that doesn't exist on Xepherya. Or is it a comfort for Bella?

"Today, of all days, I am indebted to you, the people of Mongrovia. My title as your Queen may have been given to me by birth-right, but it not something I take for granted. As a Queen, I am yours. Yours to defend, yours to fight, yours to advocate. I am honoured to stand here, fervent in my wish to always be as approachable now as I was as your Princess.

"I urge all of you to heed my father's words from his abdication speech. Progress is only possible through forward motion. We can only grow if we accept the past and actively work to curb our inner darkness. King Charles, my father, and King Edward, my husband's father, have abdicated on the urging of myself and my husband. They have abdicated to give way for a truth-commission that intends to address the many injustices and war-crimes committed across the century. We need to move past blame and encourage the sharing of information, so no son is ever lost, no daughter disappeared, no victim's tale untold. There is not a family alive, on Mongrovia or Xepherya, that has not been affected and I pray our sons and daughters will only know our pain through the pages of scripture."

Edward has never fully appreciated it before, but Bella is an incredible public speaker.

There is something, that same thing that drew him to her even across holo-screens far before he met her in person, that transcends. Something about the way she speaks…there's passion there. Restrained. Every word almost threatening to burst through with underlying fervour. Every person in that square getting the impression she is speaking to them personally, because ultimately, she is. Edward knows this.

Her strength amazes him every day. He might be biased, but he cannot find it in him to control it.

"We need to have patience. We need to trust that time uncovers truth and that some wounds are still too fresh to be forgiven. We are allowed to be angry, allowed to cast blame and demand justice. You will get it. I swear this to you. But the only way we will get it in such a way that finally closes this horrific chapter in our people's history is if we work together with the Xepheryans and do so through the channels of cooperation, of peace and diplomacy. To the resistance group _Dignity_ , as your Queen, I invite you to dialogue. I invite you to diplomatically open your hearts and allow me to begin the process of listening. This is a time for unity, not for division.

"Today we celebrate. To the future, my friends, and to the united people of Olympia. May our ancestors finally look down on us with pride, knowing we are fulfilling what they first hoped to accomplish by exploring the skies. I urge you all to enjoy this day and embrace the festivities. Tomorrow the real work begins, but for tonight, let us all be merry."

The applause feels like a warm embrace, and music erupts from all over, some street musicians, other official music from speakers, and the crowd is loud and _happy_.

When Edward rises, taking Bella's hand, she suddenly leans forward, whispering in his ear.

"Come on, Harry will cover for us. Just follow my lead."

Bella pays no attention to Edward's quizzical look and somehow manages to duck back, her hand warm in his, as she weaves her way through security, giving an older guard a nod that he returns with a smirk.

"Fifteen?"

"Make it half an hour, Harry, I believe in you."

"Your Highness."

Bella takes a sharp turn and drags Edward behind a corner, down a very narrow alleyway that does not appear to be used by pedestrians. There isn't even any pavement, only odd trampled flowerbeds and dirt. It's hardly even the width of a person, yet she is skidding across the rough surface, her steps sure.

"The alleys are built for flood control, so when we get hit with rougher weather the water has somewhere to seep into the earth." She says this casually, as if Edward had asked. "But they also double as _excellent_ escape-routes for bored nobles."

"Where are you taking us?" Bella glances back at Edward's comment, her smile positively mischievous.

"You'll see. You're on _my_ planet now. I call the shots here, did you not hear? I'm Queen, supposedly."

"Is it safe?" It is with growing alarm that Edward realises that none of their security have followed them, and with the rebels still active for the two of them to run off seems foolish.

"I've run through these alleys since I was first able to walk." But then Bella reaches for her belt with her free hand, still propelling Edward forward. "However, I have no intention of making an orphan out of our daughter."

Looking down, Edward sees that concealed at Bella's waist is a laser weapon, which calms Edward more than it should.

Several times, Bella stops abruptly, pressing herself and Edward against walls to hide their faces as people walk past, avoiding the main streets and slinking through the same narrow passages. The city is so mismatched, seemingly random in construction, like there has been no planning at all, and yet, Bella seems perfectly aware of her surroundings. He can't deny her, not when she looks at him with that childlike happiness.

After five minutes and after miraculously not having been spotted, they reach a set of ladders which Bella climbs. Edward has no option but to follow, ignoring how the material stretches over her behind as she does so. Trousers on women are really starting to grow on him.

When he reaches the end of the ladders, Edward is practically winded, having darted across half the city. He has to rest his hands on his knees to collect himself, wondering what has happened to his fitness levels. When he straightens out, he realises that they are on a deserted rooftop, the Mongrovian capital stretching out all around them.

Bella stands with her back to him, looking over her hometown, her hands on her hips as she angles her face to the clear blue sky, her complexion almost drinking in the light.

 _Magnificent._

If he does not check himself he is dangerously close to saying all the things he has no right to say. Telling her how ardently he is in love with her will simply not do. So he is quiet, ignoring the lump of longing in his throat.

"I wanted to show you this. Show you were I come from." Bella turns, stretching her hand in Edward's direction. Like moth to flame, Edward is powerless to refute her request, closing the distance between them and taking her hand, following her gaze to where she is looking. The bustle from the celebrations is a murmured backdrop against the scenery.

"That over there is the square, and see that big structure there? That's the old palace. It's a memorial now, bombs got it twenty years ago. They thought leaving the ruin would be fitting." Bella's words are soft, and Edward doubts she means to drag up anything truly heavy. But he understands where she comes from. The war is so obvious here, more than it is on Xepherya, it would have been odd not to mention.

"And that over there is the royal park, it sits just at the sea. See the pier? Mom used to take me there walking when I was really young."

Edward squeezes Bella's hand, in reassurance or in apology he does not know. Maybe both. Edward had not been able to look his father in the eye for two months when he found out, as an adult, that King Edward had personally ordered a hit on King Charles' wife and daughter. It had not been an act of war, it had been a deliberate personal attack in the hopes of throwing King Charles off his game, attacking an innocent woman and child. Edward shudders, wondering what would have happened if the drone-strike had been successful in killing Bella as well.

"My mom's painting…it was your doing, was it not?"

Her words are gentle and Edward feels Bella's eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn't dare look at her.

"Yes. One of my art contacts heard rumours of the painting some years back. When it was decided that you were to arrive on Xepherya…I decided to find it."

"Edward, look at me."

With his heart racing, Edward complies, gazing down at Bella that is looking at him sadly.

"Thank you. You have no idea…I cannot possibly put into words how much that painting means to me." She smiles, turning her body to face him as she places her free hand on his chest, smoothening out a lapel. Her eyes are firmly fixed on his chest, but as the seconds stretch, Edward realises she is waiting for him to say something.

"You are welcome. I wanted to…wanted to show you that you could trust me. That I'm not…my father."

"I know." She smiles, finally catching his eye, letting go of his hand so she can place both hands over his heart. Edward is too terrified for this moment to pass, of Bella touching him so freely, and does not even dare move his hands to touch her, leaving them stiff at his sides.

But then, Bella's round eyes suddenly grow hesitant, a tremble in her lip, and Edward has to hold her.

"What's wrong?" He wraps her small frame in his arms, rubbing what he hopes to be soothing circles on her back.

"I have a confession to make."

He almost tells her not to bother. To let him stay in this bubble a bit longer. Last time she confessed anything they ended up screaming at one another and getting distracted and Bella attacked—

Clenching his jaw together, Edward tells himself this is different.

"What is it?"

"That day, when…Lady Denali came to the apartment? I…I overheard most of the conversation. It was wrong of me, and I am sorry for invading your privacy, but I am not sorry about what I heard. I needed…needed to hear it."

Edward can only blink stupidly, not sure he is hearing her correctly.

She overheard? Overheard Edward in the most cowardly moment of his life breaking things off with his ex-fiancée?

And she _needed to hear it?_

"You…heard?"

"I eavesdropped." Bella grimaces, turning her gaze down to his chest again. Her next words are awkward, self-conscious. "I was so caught up in my own need to be in control and to not mess anything up, and I was utterly blind. Even Rose saw it months before I did. I'm…sorry, about how things turned out with Lady Denali, but…no, I'm not really. Like I said, I needed to hear it."

Edward's head is spinning. Hope springs in his chest like fireworks, one after another, and he feels his hands tremble on Bella's back.

"Why did you need to hear it?"

 _Please_ , he thinks. _Please, all mighty, please._

Bella's eyes connect with his, and there is so much unrestrained emotion in her dark eyes, the very same eyes of his daughter, that Edward thinks he will faint.

"When I came to Xepherya, I made a deal with Prince Edward. I made him agree to treat our marriage like a business arrangement, one without romance. If you are open to it, I would like to make a new deal with King Anthony."

"And…and what deal is that?" He doesn't recognise his own voice.

"I would like to propose a marriage." Bella's voice is strong, her fingers curling in on his chest, applying pressure just over his pounding heart. "A _true_ marriage."

"You…you—really?" Normally, Edward prides himself on being rather eloquent. But in this moment, words escape him. His whole body is reacting, every nerve-ending firing, elation that could only be compared to holding his daughter in his arms for the first time filling him to the brim and spilling over.

"Really." Her smile stretches her whole face, joy pouring from her expression like an explosion.

In a daze, Edward feels as Bella drags one hand up his neck, cupping his cheek. His shiver is involuntary, pleasure shooting down his spine at the intimate gesture. Bella's thumb ghosts over his bottom lip and Edward can only stare at Bella's red mouth, completely distracted out of his senses with the need to kiss her. _Truly_ kiss her.

"Be my husband?"

There is no doubt.

"Yes. Yes, yes!"

And then – _she_ kisses _him_.

There is no hesitation, no shyness. When their lips touch it is like a bomb that has just been waiting to go off, fire burning through Edward as if it has consumed him. He cannot help it, she needs to be closer, and he wraps his arms tightly around her waist as he lifts her off the ground, their faces level as she finally opens her lips for him. Edward unthinkingly and without reservations engulfs her bottom lip with the fervour of a man who has found water after nearly dying of thirst. Her body pressed against his is heavenly torture, knowing just how she feels without clothes and combining it with this fervent woman clawing at his shoulders.

When they break apart for air, they are both panting, Bella's forehead falling on Edward's. He is refusing to put her down. Will never let her go again.

"Thank you for waiting for me." Her words are breathy, whispered in the small space between their lips.

"You beautiful woman, of course I would wait for you." Edward kisses her again, hating the layers between them, needing to be closer and yet utterly unwilling to pause to stop this moment. "I never thought—never expected—"

"I know." Her smile is blinding, brighter than the Mongrovian sun. "I'm sorry it took me so long to see."

"Never. If it got us here—never. I—I love you, Bella." There is no stopping it. For _months_ the words have been in his head, almost escaping so many times he couldn't wait to say them, the consequences be damned.

Bella buries her hands in Edward's hair, dragging her fingers across his scalp. Tears are brimming in her eyes.

"I love you, too."

Edward has died and gone to heaven. Surely, that is the only way to describe this feeling.

"Yes!" Joy is pouring out of him like water burst from a dam. "You hear that!" He lifts his head upward, screaming to the skies. "My wife loves me!"

Bella's giggle is a balm to his bruised heart, and he spins her around, her laughter disappearing on the wind. He nearly falls, practically taking Bella with him, but when they find their footing they are bumbling like cackling teenagers, falling over themselves in a need to stay close together.

"We better return," Bella finally says, still wrapped around Edward. "Before they realise we're missing."

As Bella takes his hand and drags him toward the ladders, Edward can only think of one thing.

"Thank you." _Thank you for giving me a chance._

She smiles back at him, but no other words are necessary. With intertwined hands and stolen kisses in alleyways, they finally make their way back to the palace. Using a hidden entrance way, Bella takes Edward straight to the corridor outside of the royal wing, Harry the security guard giving Bella a nod when they slink inside.

There are very few things that could distract Edward from Bella at the present, but Eliza is one of them. Rosalie is holding her, rocking the babe in her arms as she coos, wandering around the spacious common area.

Bella gravitates toward the two, gently taking Eliza from Rosalie's arms.

"She's refusing to take the bottle."

"That's alright, we have some time before we need to head to the dance." Bella takes a step toward her bedroom, but stops, looking back at Edward with a hesitant look. Out of respect, Edward has usually not been in the room when Bella breastfeeds. "I…I won't be long."

Edward wants to reach for her. Wants to kiss her. As if letting her out of his sight will make the last hour nothing more than a dream. But he can feel Emmett's and Rosalie's gazes on them, along with several guards standing in corners.

"I'll be here."

With a relieved smile, Bella turns and walks to her given bedroom. Edward has another one, to replicate how they sleep back home, but now…will they share a bed? Surely it is too soon. _Don't push_ , he tells himself.

As Bella disappears out of his sight, he drags a hand through his hair, feeling awkward in his own skin.

"So…brother." Edward turns to look at Emmett, sprawled out on one of the couches with a smirk that seems to have taken over his face.

Edward does not like the look on his face. His eyes are sparkling. Glancing at Rosalie, Edward notices that she is staring at him with one eyebrow raised, her sneer – if possible – amused.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing much." Emmett shrugs, shifting on the couch as Rosalie sits down in an armchair. "Any new developments lately? Anything I should know as the Queen's… _bodyguard_?"

There is no mistaking Emmett's grin, but Edward doesn't really feel like verifying anything. Not without having let things settle with Bella.

"Only her coronation." Edward smiles, trying to shake the sudden need to hide. He is suddenly very aware of this being Bella's _brother_. And he can himself vividly remember just how much schtick he gave Jasper before he married Alice. "If you will excuse me, I will go change for the ball."

Edward turns and is about to head to the bedroom he has been given when Rosalie's voice interrupts him.

"Oh, your Highness?" Edward looks back at Rosalie, her pursed lips gleeful. "If I may suggest, perhaps give your face a wash."

Confused but not really willing to stay in the room, Edward heads to his bedroom, relieved when he closes the door behind him. With growing suspicion he walks up to a mirror, groaning out loud when he sees his reflection in the mirror.

The soot.

He had forgotten about the soot. The soot that Bella had all over her face. The soot that is now all over _Edward's_ face.

 _There will be no living with them now_ , he thinks miserably. Why didn't Bella tell him? Still, there is very little that can dampen Edward's mood so by the time he's showered and changed into attire that is traditional for Mongrovian royalty – with a Xepheryan sash and the crown from his coronation – he figures it does not matter.

Bella loves him. Loves, _him_. He will deal with all the pointed looks in the world.

When Edward returns to the common area only the guards remain and Edward sits down to glance over the notifications he has missed during the day. He's struggling to focus, unable to forget just how Bella felt against him, how she felt against him _when she wanted to touch him_ , so he's left re-reading the same paragraph half a dozen times. He is just about to give up when Bella, Emmett and Rosalie return to the room.

It is as if he sees her for the first time. He wonders if she will always have this effect on him. She is in one of the Mongrovian dresses that are open in the front with trousers underneath, a large billowing skirt in the back that makes her waist look miniscule. He wants to wrap his arms around it. She has arranged her hair to sit tousled on her head, the dried salt shimmering in the light. She is still wearing the crown placed on her head during the coronation, a stately, jewelled headpiece that gives no doubt of her station. She has reapplied the soot, looking more put together now that it isn't streaked down her chin.

"Don't worry, Bella, Rosie and I have Eliza. You go paint the town red."

"That's Lady Rosalie to you, McCarthy."

"Sure it is, Rosie."

Bella, smartly, ignores the bickering and walks toward Edward, smiling shyly. Edward, however, is having none of that, taking her hand as soon as she is within reach and placing a kiss on it.

"You look beautiful, wife."

"And you very handsome."

When they leave the apartment to head to the ballroom, Edward feels a pulsating electricity between them.

When they dance, glances are exchanged loaded with meaning.

When they move to a slow waltz, there is not a breath between their bodies.

For hours, they are always connected. Always touching, always reaching for one another, yet barely any words are spoken. Edward feels like they are somehow redoing their wedding, the wedding they were _meant_ to have, and he never wants the night to end.

Yet end it does, Bella thanking her people with warm embraces and words of kindness. Her face is flushed, her smile settled. She is a woman comfortable in her own skin and Edward has never been more attracted to her.

When they return to the royal apartment, Bella does not let go of his hand. Without any words spoken, Bella utterly disregards their security and with a firm grip on Edward's hand leads him to her bedroom.

Edward's heart is beating so wildly he is sure she can hear it, but she just smiles at him serenely.

When they undress, they undress _each other_.

When they kiss, they _face_ one another.

When Edward rests on Bella's naked body she _looks_ at him.

When he finally enters her dizzying heat, she cries out in _delight_.

When Bella seizes underneath him at the height of her pleasure, _he feels invincible._

And as they lay, returning from their mutual highs exchanging breaths, there is only one thing in Edward's head.

"Please stay?" Night after night he had been forced to watch her leave, robotic in her movements as she dressed, refusing to look at him as she retreated to her own bedroom. The instinctual fear of it happening again nearly chokes him.

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be."

When they fall asleep in each other's arms, Edward is home.

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

a/n: That is it, the end of _Painting Peace_.

To all that read, reviewed, raged and laughed, I thank you.

These characters have said all they wanted to say, and I will not be be writing anything else for them. If they live on in your minds, my job is done. It has been a joy to start writing again and it is likely that I will post more fanfiction as time goes on. However, I like having almost completed stories before I start posting anything to save everyone long waiting times and me any anxiety that comes from writing block and falling behind schedule. If you are interested in my writing, put me on author alert and I hope to see you all in my next venture. So far, my ideas include a pinch of the supernatural, a dash of sci-fi and some heavy petting.

Until next time,  
Bixie


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